Unredeemed
by amber.garnet
Summary: Renji defies orders to bring an abandoned girl out of the dungeons of Hueco Mundo. AU. M chapters are marked.
1. Chapter One

Nothing seemed to have changed in the Seireitei port town of Merristone to Renji Abarai as the modest ship pulled up to the row of docks along the harbor. At least, nothing that was evident in the growing dusk around him. Lights blinked on along the taverns and brothels lining the pier slips, the high pitched laughter of women mingling with the raucous challenges of men from the open doorways. From a few ships farther down from the dock the _Scarlet Reaper_ approached, the sounds of a tambourine rang off the wooden holds, a female voice rising in song.

Renji stood at the portside rail, eyes moving over the few ships docked at the other slips. A couple were clearly pirate, a few others merchant vessels, but questionable. Like his own ship. But they were none he'd seen before.

He retied the black headrag around his deep red hair, most of the length twisted into two braids at his left temple. It was a departure from how he'd worn it most of his life in Seireitei, when he'd been in service to the Kuchiki family.

Which was why he was there now.

"Captain, we're ready to tie off," Izuru said from the main mast post. His eyes shifted nervously along the dockside of town, even more nervous than his usual worry.

Renji nodded to him. "Stop with the formalities, Izuru. There's no one here to impress."

Izuru looked to the other ships warily.

Renji leaned both hands on the rail, hearing the crew's rumblings in the forecastle as the men readied to scout the town in search of amusements.

"You need me on the next trip, Renji?" Izuru asked as he crossed the deck. His question coincided with the neighboring ship's bells ringing the late hour. Izuru cleared his throat. "Do you have someone in mind as first mate for the next trip?"

It was a pertinent question. Renji didn't have a permanent first mate; the crew accepted it, most preferring the unusual arrangement, or lack of one. "I don't know where the next voyage is yet, Izuru," Renji told him, and then slapped him on his unsuspecting shoulder, bringing a flinch from him. "Go see your little Momo."

Izuru grinned, but only for a moment. He pushed his shaggy hair from his face, his smile turning wistful. "It's not appropriate anymore; she's engaged to Toshiro Hitsugaya."

Renji had suspected as much. Time at sea drove hearts apart. He'd hoped so, not for Izuru, but for himself. Perhaps not so much his heart, as his loyalties. He waved a consent to the crewmen who'd gathered at the port rail to extend the gangplank to the dock as a few others tied off ropes to the dock posts. He looked back to Izuru. "A hello wouldn't hurt anyone."

Izuru nodded, turning to the gangplank several of the crew was cranking into place.

"Friendship doesn't have to take such a low second seat to a fiancé." Renji wasn't sure how much of those words were for his crewman and how much for himself, but he didn't try to decide that. He'd been down that bridge too many times. Sometimes being blindsided by reality made for sour thoughts that repeated like a bad song. "Anyway," he said, standing straight and putting one hand to the scabbard at his side, "a hello is always in order."

Izuru nodded, and then turned as Shuuhei Hisagi approached them, a grin running his face.

"Let's go!" Shuuhei crowed, slapping a hand on Izuru's shoulder that made him sidestep. "I'm sure there's a woman attached to that tambourine. Let's go see what she looks like. Maybe she has a friend for you!"

Izuru frowned. "Why do you always assume I need the friend?"

Shuuhei chuckled, shaking his head at Renji. "Let's go, Kira."

Renji watched them leave, joining the other crewmen leaving the _Scarlet Reaper_ as he gave them a nod of dismissal. The ungainly crew invaded the dock and town, their laughter crowding out sounds of the lone crewman on dogwatch at the ship's quarterdeck.

The crewman was in the middle of his second complaint about his shift when he changed his tune.

"There," he called to Renji from his position at the quarterdeck's rail. He pointed to the lone, thin figure making his way against the barrage of crewmen on the dock. "Looks like a messenger, Captain."

Renji nodded, watching the thin man approach. He easily recognized the red and purple of the man's belted tunic over black pants as Kuchiki issue. The color combination had never set well with Renji, even after his decade in Byakuya Kuchiki's service. One of the differences now was that he didn't have to remain silent about the attitude.

The messenger looked anxiously from a paper rolled in his hand to the three-masted ship's stern, reading the name on the escutcheon. He glanced to Renji, frowning slightly. "Captain Abarai?"

Renji grinned. He didn't think he'd ever hear anyone from the Kuchiki estate address him as captain, not when he knew Byakuya considered him a mere smuggler, if not pirate. "Yes. What do you want?"

The man made a short bow. "I have a horse waiting for you from Lord Kuchiki's private stables. Your groundage has been paid," he said, his voice neutral as his eyes skimmed over the ship's causal appearance. "I must insist on urgency."

"I'm sure you must," Renji said dryly. Even from afar Byakuya could be insulting. "I can pay my own damn port fees, thank you."

"No need, Captain," the messenger insisted. "It's taken care of. Please, your horse is waiting."

Before Renji could argue the point further, the slight man turned and walked down the dock, his footsteps quick as he put distance between him and the other ships.

Muttering, Renji followed. "First man back has the next watch," he called to the crewman on watch duty at the quarterdeck. "First _sober_ man back."

The crewman nodded. "Aye, Captain."

The warm night air was full of music, laughter, and the smell of the sea gently lapping at the breakers, but Renji's thoughts were already moving on to his meeting with his former employer. At the end of the dock the messenger met a youth holding the reins to a tall bay horse. All were owned by Byakuya Kuchiki, Renji knew, as was nearly everything else in the port town of Merristone. It could be worse, he also knew; Kuchiki couldn't have everything he wanted, namely the small island in the bay called Weaver's Isle, the jewel of the isles that dotted the coastline. It was the most coveted of seaboard property, and one that Byakuya, and several other nobles, had tried to buy or control, without success.

There wasn't much Kuchiki didn't own or couldn't buy. It was one thing that made Renji appreciate his freedom on the seas, and at the helm of his own ship.

Not one that was owned by Kuchiki, despite the family's vast fleet of merchant ships, some of which Renji had worked aboard before serving in other capacities, namely as the young Rukia Kuchiki's personal bodyguard.

He grabbed the reins from the boy waiting with the horse and climbed into the saddle. A fine horse, of course, as everything was that wore the Kuchiki name or marking. He scowled as he took the horse down the dockside of the lane where the bars and brothels huddled.

Employment with the Kuchiki family had its drawbacks, he'd learned, but the lower class families had few alternatives to accepting those positions sometimes, and sometimes at the cost of individuality. At least the Kuchiki family wasn't so barbaric as to brand their servants; tattooing was nearly as permanent a marker. Even so, the first chance he got at his forced-upon freedom, Renji had _that_ ill-gotten tattoo covered.

* * *

The manor and lands were nearly as Renji remembered them, even in only the light of the full moon that played over the gardens in the valley as his horse topped the rise to the Kuchiki Valley two hours later. He halted the animal, taking in the expansive grounds and sprawling buildings that made up the Kuchiki estate.

He knew most of the land; it had been his job as Rukia's protector to know the grounds, the weakest spots and hidden entries. Rukia had also known most of them and found it, at times, great fun to hide from him when she should have been found. It blurred the lines between bodyguard and childhood friend from the neighboring sharecropper boroughs. It hadn't bothered him as a child that she ate his hard-earned work at his family's strands of grapes. It hadn't bothered her either that he was the son of the help.

Renji started the horse down the dark slope of grass to the valley below. He knew he owed the Kuchiki family for taking him in after his parents' deaths, but he'd also paid. Twelve years was twelve years, and at his present age, it was almost half a lifetime. He also knew it would end; the abruptness of that termination – upon Rukia's engagement to Ichigo Kurosaki of the Karakura region further north on the seaboard – now _that_ had been a surprise.

Of course, Byakuya Kuchiki had offered to make amends for Renji's sudden unemployment.

He pushed those thoughts back into the darkest corner of his mind as he followed the stone paved road at the bottom of the slope to the estate. If Kuchiki had summoned him from a port two hundred miles away, he figured there was more at stake than turning a smuggler over to authorities.

He reached the house to find the wide front portico illuminated with every torch lit on the four tall marble pillars. All three stories of the grand house was decked in marble or alabaster, leafy vines climbing their way to the balconies and windows on the upper levels. As soon as Renji dismounted, a youth ran from the carefully manicured hedges to take his horse.

"Thank you! Thank you!" the boy cried, his accent giving away that he clearly was not a local.

Renji handed him the reins and was about to speak when one of the tall double doors at the porch opened. To his surprise, it was Byakuya Kuchiki himself.

Byakuya's aloof gaze lowered over Renji's attire of black pants, dark green tunic and belt weighted with scabbard. His eyes went to the black headrag. "Your haste is appreciated."

Renji nodded, the familiar feeling of inferiority slipping over him as he paused at the bottom step of the portico. "I suppose you inquired at the jails first."

A hint of smile came to the nobleman's face. "Actually, yes." He nodded. "Come in."

Inside the main floor of the lavishly furnished mansion the entry was dark. Renji recalled the rooms, the floor plan and layout of the premises, none of which had changed in the year he'd been gone from it. They passed down the dark halls to the antechamber he knew was generally the family's personal meeting room.

"When I'd heard that the pirate Zaraki had been captured last month, I naturally assumed you were still sailing with him," Byakuya said, nodding to a servant waiting as they entered the room lit with short candles in the floor candelabras. The servant bowed and left. "I understand you've branched off on your own now." Byakuya didn't sit down, but paused at the teak wood desk that was the focal point of the room. He gestured to one of the two burgundy and cream tapestry covered couches. "You needn't have turned pirate, Abarai. I offered you a ship and good contacts in the shipyards."

Renji sat down and bristled despite the comfort of the couch's upholstery. He scowled at the nobleman. "I took the crumbs I needed and left. I didn't need a ship from you."

Byakuya frowned slightly, the candlelight flickering over his face, making him appear older than his years for a moment. "You knew the day would come that Lady Rukia wouldn't need you anymore. As a bodyguard," he added, his eyes on the desk's contents of parchment, quill and ink bottle. "She still insists you attend her wedding."

"I'll be there," Renji said, watching his former employer's hand rest on something on the desk. "Is that what this is about? She set a date for the wedding?"

"No. Not exactly."

Renji sighed and sat back, laying one arm along the top of the couch top. "It's been a year. A proper year for an engagement," he said, waiting for the nobleman to say something useful. "Or is that it? Not proper to have a smuggler attend her wedding?"

Byakuya's eyes darted to him. "You chose piracy, Abarai, when –"

"Smuggler," Renji corrected him, although the difference was marginal at times and generally crossed in his cargo as well as deckside. "Not pirate."

"You attacked the _Southern Pearl_ and _Yellow Lily_," Byakuya reminded.

"Emperor Yamamoto hired me to lift their cargoes," Renji countered, keeping a growl from his tone. "That's privateering. Not piracy."

"I see time on Zaraki's deck has quickly worn off on you. You should redeem yourself before it's irreversible."

Renji's eyes narrowed on him. "What do you want, Kuchiki?"

Byakuya frowned at him. "I believe that's the first time you've dared address me as such."

Renji let his attention wander about the room. The walls were tall, mostly paneled with cherrywood and malachite insets, the double louvered doors now closed that he knew opened to the back lawn where he and Rukia had played as children. On one of those walls was a portrait of Hisana, whom he had never met but had learned through her immortalization in images. His eyes naturally went to the portrait directly opposite Hisana. It was Rukia, dressed in her favorite lavender gown, the soft frills of white ruffles bordering her collar that added a fullness to her she didn't naturally have. Her dark hair was swept back with a comb laced with amethyst and pearls.

"You've heard about Sousuke Aizen lately," Byakuya said.

Renji glanced back to him, surprised to find the nobleman standing much closer, this time with a crystal glass of gold liquid in each hand. He offered one to Renji.

"Have you?"

Renji took the glass, eyes sharpening on him. "What about him? I know he's trying to raise the money to fund a war against the Emperor." He downed half the brandy, watching Byakuya finger his own glass. "I've already agreed to sail for Seireitei. If that makes me pirate, then I'm pirate." It was a good quality brandy, but he didn't finish it immediately. "Hueco Mundo is desert; of course Aizen wants Seireitei. He's never made any pretense about wanting the resources we have. Who would want that damn desert? Even promising control of the few best green regions of Hueco Mundo has gotten him little." He finished his drink, watching Byakuya levelly. "What's he got? A few loyal keeps in Las Noches? Still desert."

Byakuya stepped back to the desk and set his glass on the top. "He's been getting more creative in raising the money to wage his war, Abarai."

Renji sat forward on the couch, scowling at the nobleman's back to him. "Yes?"

"Yes." Byakuya took a deep breath, his shoulders beneath the dark purple robe falling. "Captain Ukitake has moved his family of sisters inland to the relative safety of Rukongai, such as it is. The Shibas have moved to the mountains."

Renji nodded at the mention of the noble families. "You want to move inland?"

Byakuya picked up something from the desk Renji couldn't see. "Aizen has been abducting women, mostly daughters, from noble and royal families, and demanding a hearty ransom for their safe return. That's his new scheme to raise the money for his war campaign. He's made a few mistakes, of course. Stealing women who have a name but no wealth. They're still missing, naturally."

Renji was on his feet, setting the glass absently on the nearest candle table. "What are you saying?" He nearly snatched the nobleman's sleeve when Byakuya didn't turn around fast enough.

But he did turn around and Renji saw clearly what was in his hand.

"Aizen has taken Rukia, Abarai," he said.

Renji had failed to listen. Instead his eyes frozen on the short length of black hair in Byakuya's hand. It was tied with a simple purple ribbon, Rukia's signature color, the soft wave of the lock of hair undeniably hers.

Renji made a steely effort not to grab Byakuya's robe collar. "Where is she?"

Byakuya's hand closed around the lock, eyes severe on Renji. "That damnable desert."

"Then pay him!" Renji made a gesture to the wall portrait of Rukia. "Get her back! I'll take the ransom myself!"

"He's not returning the women," Byakuya said tolerantly. "He's requesting ransoms two and three times, being paid, and then delivering the women ... when he does return them, they're dead. I want her back alive."

Renji nodded as he turned and stormed to the doorway. "Las Noches?"

"I've already sent Ichigo Kurosaki –"

Renji spun around to glare at him. "That's why you called me here? To help _him_?"

"To bring her back. I've sent ships out already and all have been sunk," Byakuya admitted, keeping Renji's heated glare. "I'm now sending those whom I know care for Rukia."

"I see you're still here," Renji bit at him, hand automatically gripping his sword hilt.

"Emperor Yamamoto has forbid nobles to travel out of the country," Byakuya said. "If I –"

Renji wanted to grin but didn't feel like it. "How inconvenient to be a noble right now."

"You do this," Byakuya said, rising to his full height, his temporarily slipped noble air returning, "and I'll pay you ten years' salary."

"Keep your damn money!" Renji turned and headed back to the doorway, brushing away the servant who dared cross his path as he came in. "You don't _have_ enough to pay for something like this!"

Byakuya spoke again, but Renji heard none of it. All he was aware of was the mind-numbing words of Rukia's abduction that sent the blood on a blindingly painful course through his veins.

He desperately hoped enough of his crew was sober enough to set sail.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Rating to change later; Mature content will be marked at chapter beginnings. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter Two

What crew there was aboard the _Scarlet Reaper_ was not sober, not by a long shot. Renji reached the port a few hours after midnight, the lively sounds of the active taverns and brothels lost on him as he halted the borrowed horse at the dock where his ship was tied.

He strode down the wooden pier, his mind twisting through the implications of Rukia's abduction, adding salt to mental wounds he'd scarred over months ago.

It wouldn't have happened if he'd stayed, if he'd still been in charge of her safety. _That_ he knew. She'd never gotten injured when he was answerable for her.

He took the gangplank in a few steps, glaring at the crewman on dogwatch at the quarterdeck rail.

"We're sailing," he said as the man looked to him. "How many of the crew are back? How many sober enough for detail?"

"Not many and even fewer, Captain," the man called back, belching from his earlier revelry. "Sorry, Captain, but we've got a dozen in the forecastle, sleeping off their rejection."

Renji sent a glower to the forecastle at the front of the ship. "Since when do whores get picky?"

The man chuckled, nodding. "Port's closing up, Captain. I hear the dock master won't let any ships leave. We ain't got our official notice yet, but it's coming."

Renji looked down the rows of docks to where the pricier vessels were located. Three large, well-quipped ships with oar ports bobbed in the warm night, their imposing design obvious even with all sails furled, oar ports closed. He often thought a Kuchiki ship was recognizable even to a blind man, something about the very air of the ships that reeked of their noble owner.

"Then we'll leave before we get our official notice," he told the crewman, the precious minutes between him and the large island of Hueco Mundo seeming to magnify. "I'll bet they'd let a Kuchiki ship leave port; maybe we should commandeer one of those for a good cause," he added, eyes narrowing on the closest of the nobleman's vessels. "We could use a back up plan for ill winds."

"You'd still need oarsmen," a voice countered from the deck behind him.

Renji turned to see Ichigo Kurosaki standing on the dock. He refused the first impulse to spit somewhere at the sight, but allowed the newcomer a nod.

"It wouldn't do you any good anyway," Ichigo said, hitching up the heavy baldric that crossed his chest.

Renji gave him a short chuckle, shaking his head at the orange-haired man. Barely a man, he decided, but old enough for a fiancé, he knew. "You think Kuchiki would have a problem lending me a ship to retrieve your betrothed?"

The words grated with Ichigo, but he let it pass. "All the Kuchiki ships are already under port law. None of them are allowed to leave. The whole port is going under maritime attack laws, Abarai."

Renji headed for the forecastle. "I'm not and I'm not staying around until I am."

"I'm going with you."

Renji halted on the deck and glanced back as Ichigo crossed the gangplank. "What the hell did you —"

"I'm coming with you." Ichigo's posture stiffened as Renji turned and met him. "If you can get us out of here, Renji," he said, voice lowering as two port guard walked by the ship at the far end of the dock, "I'm going, too. I want her back safe as much as you do."

Renji estimated the younger man. Ichigo Kurosaki's reputation was known across Seireitei and other parts of the continent as a lethal contender at any swordsmanship tournament, but he still didn't like the thought of him on the _Scarlet Reaper_. He also knew he needed any good swordsman and anyone's devotion to Rukia to attempt assaulting a fortress like Las Noches.

"She's got a better chance with two of us going," Ichigo said. "We need every chance we have."

Renji glanced to the town side of the dock as the port guards stopped another ship's captain. He gave Ichigo a nod, consenting to the idea. "You'll be pulling ropes. I've got a short crew and don't have room for dandies on this voyage."

Ichigo grinned, but it was pale for more reasons than the clouded moon's dim light. "Then let's set sail."

It was a quiet moment as the _Scarlet Reaper_ slipped away from the dock ten minutes later. Ichigo stowed his sole bundle of luggage in the acting first mate's cabin a few doors from the master cabin below the quarterdeck and went back deckside to get his first taste of nautical rope burn.

The ship got halfway to the port cove's outlet to the sea before being spotted by the authorities. By then it was too late, and Renji knew it. He watched from the quarterdeck raised over the master cabin, seeing in the moon's light rippling over the waters the short bustle dockside as the port guards blamed each other for allowing a ship to see. No one followed them.

He turned on the quarterdeck to see the main deck behind him. Ichigo and the few remains of his less inebriated crew were straining at the mast ropes, the canvas sails slowly inching up the derricks until the ship gained speed. He jumped down the short stairs of the quarterdeck and joined the two crewmen at the aft mast ropes.

Ichigo tugged at the rope with the two other crewmen. "Is this all you've got for a crew?"

Renji knew the question was directed at him. "Not usually. Kind of a sudden departure," he snapped.

They tied off the ropes and spent the next ten minutes securing any barrels and gear that had taken a roll at the abrupt cast-off.

Ichigo went to the starboard rail, his gaze on the dot of island south of the ship.

Renji followed his attention. "That's not Hueco Mundo."

"I know that; it's Weaver's Isle." Ichigo turned to the dark water ahead of them as the ship cut silently through, the only sounds the hulls creaking over the waves and the filling of sails overhead. "I should never have let her come to the tourney banquet. Byakuya wanted her to stay home, but I wanted her with me."

Renji's focus left the island for his new deckhand, the use of the nobleman's first name eluding him. "She was _with_ you when she was abducted?" he grabbed a fist of Ichigo's tan shirt. "You _let_ her get abducted by Aizen?"

Ichigo threw off his hand. "I didn't let her! She was with my sisters, and the next thing –"

"I don't care about the next thing!" Renji tore his sword from its holster, the point nearly at Ichigo's throat when Ichigo countered with his own draw, the blades pressing intently against each other. "Damn your idiot pride, Kurosaki! How could –"

"Hey, hey, are we fighting already?" Izuru steadied himself with a hand to the rail as he stayed clear of the swords. He squinted through drunken bleariness at Ichigo. "Who are you?"

Renji shoved Ichigo away, the sharp sound of metal screeching in the night. "If she's not safe with you, she doesn't need you," he growled, watching Ichigo lower the sword but remain cautiously alert. "You're supposed to protect her."

"I know that. I failed." Ichigo chanced to sheath his sword, hoping for the same from Renji. "I will protect her. I'll never fail her again."

Renji nodded, deciding against further action. "We're going after Rukia Kuchiki," he told Izuru, doubting the fair haired man would remember it in the morning. "How many men are below?"

Izuru wanted to shrug, but thought better of it. "Four, I think."

Renji looked around at the half dozen crewmen busily tying down the ropes and stowing crates against the hull sides. It was the slimmest crew he'd ever attempted. Perhaps it was better, he decided, holding Ichigo's stare, which was dropping some of its guilt. The less spectacle they made docking at any port in Hueco Mundo, the better their chances of approaching Las Noches undetected.

"Is he your first mate?" Ichigo asked, nodding at Izuru who was sinking into a sitting position against the rail.

"I don't have a permanent first mate," Renji told him.

"You're that hard to get along with?" Ichigo attempted a weak chuckle. "Rukia was right about you."

Renji decided against contradicting her. "Damn right."

* * *

It was a three day voyage to the large island nation of Hueco Mundo, a land known for its rugged deserts and onyx mountains and savage occupants. It had been rumored that the neighboring countries had deposited their worst felons and death sentenced prisoners there rather than house, feed and execute them, but no government would acknowledge the fact. No one knew how the country had managed to populate itself in just over a century, either.

Rich in sand and sky, Hueco Mundo lacked water and irrigation to make it anything else. Most towns were located on the coast, the trade life busy with pirates, smugglers and legitimate ships blown off course or in need of repairs and forced to dock. The only establishment of any mention that ventured into the interior was Las Noches, a self-contained collection of compound and keeps that had been overthrown and controlled by one of some country's worst prisoners. No country claimed Sousuke Aizen, nor did anyone want him back.

Left to his own means, Aizen had made Las Noches into as close to a haven as any hole in the arid desert could be. But it had come at a cost.

He ruled his domain with a few loyal followers, some more loyal than others, most of his devotion built by fear, promises, and threats. All that would change, he told them and his hostages when he decided to amuse himself with one, when he was finally in the position to take the luxury that Seireitei offered.

Renji and Ichigo knew most of this or stories similar to it. Renji figured docking at the far western end of Hueco Mundo at one of the busiest ports was best. He also decided their departure, should they make a successful assault on Las Noches, should be from a more obscure location. He chose a port further north for the departure home, hoping Izuru could remember his short stint at navigating enough to rendezvous with them there.

They docked at the busy port of Blue Haven four days later, spending one day fringing the coast, observing the comings and goings of the merchant and pirate ships.

The day of study ate at Ichigo and Renji both. It wasn't quite Renji's nature to observe for too long before taking action, but this was not a battle he wanted to rush in to. There was too much at stake.

It was just after dawn that he and Ichigo left the _Scarlet Reaper_ in Izuru's care and distinct instructions on where to sail her before they headed into the port traffic. The heavy trade of Blue Haven met them with a wave of smells, mostly ill-gotten spices and oils that were displayed along the thoroughfare by shops, stalls and tented visiting vendor stands hoping not to get driven out by the locals. The dust was at a minimum, but the thronging pedestrians, camels, and horses created a loud buzz of various languages and curses.

Ichigo scowled over the seemingly endless, crowded street that stretched before them. "Let's just get through this and move on."

Renji nodded, but not in agreement. "We've got a better chance of getting into Las Noches if we go in quietly." He pointed to a tent selling long robes and rolled carpets. The pudgy, bearded shop owner waved greedily to them. "He looks willing to talk."

Ichigo had his doubts, but nodded.

Renji was right. It took a small bag of coin and a few purchases, but within twenty minutes they were attired in gray robes to protect them from the scorching sun and wind and had a lead on horses and provisions. The new robes sufficiently hid every strand of red and orange hair, leaving barely enough room for faces, making Renji and Ichigo nearly blend into the scarved marketers and shoppers of Blue Haven. It took considerably more coin to purchase two horses and what they hoped was an accurate map showing Las Noches' location, but Ichigo insisted on making those sales. Renji let him.

By noon they were following a straggling caravan of gypsies and merchants down the sand blown trade road out of town. It was a haphazard bunch of vendors, most with a sizeable amount of wares left after being evicted from the market streets by the local merchants for competitive reasons. Renji and Ichigo tagged along, hoping to appear with a group but not any particular one.

It went well, and Renji took the long hours under the blazing heat to survey the land. The sand dunes gently sloped as far as the eye could see, the only interruptions being the occasional patch of craggy rocks or low mountains in the distance that cropped up, appearing to swim in the heat waves that shimmered from the sand.

He gave the few camels, horses and riders ahead a covert glimpse above the scarf pulled over his face. Even at the distance he could smell the wares in the carts lumbering behind a few of the gypsies. He recognized most of them, had even transported similar loads of them at times aboard the _Scarlet Reaper_. Cinnamon and cloves, eucalyptus leaves and precious oils like amber and sandalwood left a heady trail of scent; he knew it was probably from Weaver's Isle, part of what made the island so coveted to so many nobles and wealthy families on the mainland. The lone governor of the island was very particular about whom he traded to, and who he even let dock in the few ports.

Renji had never been there, but many of the ships he'd come into contact with, one way or another, had. He glanced to Ichigo. Much as he despised parts of Rukia's future, he knew her fiancé was devoted. He'd met Ichigo Kurosaki twice before, once to estimate him as Rukia's husband, and once when he'd told Rukia he was leaving the Valley.

He let his thoughts focus on the expanse of sand ahead. There was little talking among the merchants around them, most grumbling about losing the trade at Blue Haven, some anticipating the market in Las Noches.

"Renji," Ichigo said, pulling his horse closer to his, face mostly hidden by the tan scarf and robe. He nodded to where the sand ahead of them dipped before a swell that hid a walled city emerging from the heat waves. "I think that's it."

Renji nodded. They'd been on the trade road for six hours, and according to the map, they should be close. He pulled his scarf down a few inches. "We'll keep with this caravan and slip in, then split up."

Ichigo frowned. "Do you know how big this place is? No one on the mainland knows much about it."

Renji's hand gripped the reins tighter, every nerve in him ready to heel the horse into a dead run to hasten Rukia's freedom. He steeled against the instinct, forcing himself to let the mount plod along after the slower camels and pack animals. "I know she's going to be in a guarded keep. Kuchiki has already sent ships and men after her. Aizen won't be completely unaware."

Ichigo tensed in the saddle, sharing the urge to quicken their pace. He didn't, eyes moving over the walled city coming into better view ahead of the line of merchants. The walls rose tall, completely hiding the complex from view save a tower in the midst of the interior.

He cleared his throat, voice dropping lower. "Thanks for coming along, Renji."

Renji didn't look at him. "_You're_ the one who tagged along."

Ichigo didn't contest the difference as they followed the pack of gypsies and merchants to the wide open gates of the walled fortress of Las Noches. The caravan and animal drivers fell quiet as the traders were funneled into the opening, a tall blue-haired guardsman checking them through.

Renji looked over his shoulder to the line of merchants and traders behind him. A few had wagons, a few carts covered with tightly tied bundles, but most wares were on pack animals, camels and a few donkeys making up the bulk. He turned back around and pulled his horse up nearer to Ichigo.

"I'm hanging back," he said as the line slowed to allow the disdainful, bored-looking guard to admit them.

Ichigo looked to Renji.

"There' a better chance of one of us getting in if we split up," Renji said, his tone low as the line moved forward. "Try to look like you belong with the group in front of us and I'll hang back with the ones behind."

Ichigo nodded and urged his horse ahead to assimilate into the merchants proffering copper pots.

Renji let his horse lag, his attention on Ichigo as he moved to the outside of the gypsy merchant, farther away from the scrutiny of the guardsmen waving the clan ahead through the gates.

Renji slowed the horse more, letting the gelding dissolve into the noisy merchant pack that included a wagon clanging with iron works and lengths of chain coiled at every post of the tall sides.

Ahead of him the guard stopped a couple men on horseback, and then nodded at their excuse for visiting Las Noches, waving them impatiently through. A simple mention of 'trade' seemed enough for the guard, until a large wagon stopped at the gate. The guard's eyes shifted over the vehicle, and then he waved it to the side where another wagon was being inspected by a tall, stringy-haired guard.

Ichigo pulled his cowl scarf higher as the merchant's ware was with paused by the guard. The guard looked without much interest at the bowing merchants, gaze resting on Ichigo still astride the horse.

"Don't screw this up," Renji muttered under his breath as he watched from further back in the merchant line.

He saw Ichigo give a slight nod to the guard, who gave him a sour expression in return, and then waved them through.

Renji glanced to the wagons pulled to the side, the heat of late afternoon permeating his robes, the sand gusting into the cowl he kept against his mouth and nose. The lanky guard with stringy black hair was chuckling, enjoying his thorough search of the rug dealer's ware in the back of one wagon. Renji nudged his horse along with the others.

"Purpose?" Grimmjow barked at the merchant pack Renji was with.

"Trade," the old, bent gypsy said, patting the rattling wagon of metal-ware, bowing as low as his old bones would let him.

"Pass," Grimmjow said, eager for anything more than gate detail. He glanced to Renji as he passed.

Renji nodded, restraining from kicking the horse into a more urgent gait. He received a nod back, and then continued through the gate, glancing around for Ichigo.

Inside the walls the city was barely that, more fortress than town, most of the buildings clumped in the center around a tall tower. The merchants were setting up stalls and tents in a large half circle around the collection of buildings. Renji's eyes moved over the buildings. He recognized the prison easily. Further back was a taller, better kept building of limestone.

_Residency_, he thought, gaze returning to the low buildings, dropping to the barred windows at ground level in a few places. The activity of merchants and tents erecting was punctuated with shouts of white robed overseers trying to direct the new mess into something less disorganized.

"Hey," Ichigo called from Renji's left.

Renji looked there, and then took his horse over.

"Some of the gypsies were talking," Ichigo said. "I couldn't understand everything they said, but I think they meant that some of the prisoners were being moved from the tower to the dungeon."

They both looked to the prison, expressions matching in distaste at the idea of Rukia being housed in anything like the subterranean dwelling.

Renji glanced to where a group of merchants were tethering a few horses and donkeys. "I'm leaving my horse there and looking into the prison. The gates will probably lock at night and we've got to get out of here before that."

Ichigo nodded, eyes on the tower. "I'll check if she's there."

Renji's gaze rose to the stone tower. It had few windows, and was partly covered in scraggly vines that had braved the sand and desert heat to climb the stone sides. "If you find her, take her and get out. Meet the ship on the —"

"We'll wait on you," Ichigo said.

Renji turned in his saddle, sharp look on Ichigo. "Just take her and go, damn it. Got it?"

Ichigo nodded slowly.

They left the horses with the animals the gypsies had tied at one end of the tall walls. The donkeys and camels were barren of packs, the horses tied off away from the camels. Two more animals drew no attention from neither guards nor merchants setting up camp.

Ichigo set off for the tower nestled inside the shorter buildings and Renji wove his way through the crowd to the prison.

The building was open at one end, the dark interior yawning ominously as Renji stepped into it. He let his eyes adjust to the stone and brick surroundings, seeing little of interest. The dank smell was in contrast to the bright sun and dry heat of the exterior, and he warily made his way down the first long room that curved down into a narrower avenue. It was mostly broken carts and stable tack in the first section, and he got the impression the above ground part of the building was more blacksmith quarters than prison. He passed an unfired smithy furnace and followed the next section of corridor.

The passage was much narrower, lit only intermittently by short-burning torches that sent shadows dancing over the walls and floor. The dank smell was combined with rot and soiled straw, the stench increasing as Renji made a turn in the next junction of corridors. A few voices drifted to him, female tones that squabbled in argument, neither of which struck him as prisoner in the stony depths, and definitely not Rukia.

He paused at the next turn of passageway that dipped lower as he followed it, the sounds from above diminishing. Most of the doors in the hall were open, black spots sunk into the stone walls, and he cautiously looked into a few of them. From what he could see, the small cells were empty save dirty straw, overturned buckets, and empty chains attached to the wall or floor. He moved on, hoping Rukia was not in a cell like these.

He followed the twisting passageway, occasionally hearing a few voices, mostly men chuckling or belching. Guards, he assumed, although there seemed to be little to guard. Perhaps the majority of prisoners were already moved elsewhere or yet to be moved in. A louder call of voices ahead in the dim passage made Renji press into the shadows, holding his breath, one hand on his sword hilt, senses acutely aware of the direction of voices.

Behind him came the sound of shifting chains, a short rattle that made him turn. The filtered light was lower in the inlet of cells, most of the six doors open at the dead end hall. Renji turned to inspect them, primarily the one with the thick wooden door still closed.

No other sounds came from the door as he paused at it, trying to see more through the small barred window eye level to him.

Inside the cell was dark, the only shadows made from light seeping in from the torches in the main corridor. The room was strewn with dirty straw, his view limited. To the right he heard the sound of breath being held, an eerie sound that he felt more than heard after looking into the chamber for a few moments. In the poorer light he saw what he recognized to be a foot, the slender turn of an ankle as it moved from his view along the floor. Its owner retracted the bare foot.

Renji had seen nearly every part of Rukia Kuchiki at one time or another, and it didn't take him more than a few seconds to know that that foot did not belong to his petite friend. He tried to see better into the cell, only able to see the foot's owner pull her leg completely out of sight. He glanced down to the main corridor, and then turned the heavy latch on the door to find it locked, as he figured it would be.

He didn't rattle the latch, not wanting to draw attention to him. To them.

He peered back through the small window. Between the bars he saw a shadow move, and then the dark silhouette of a girl's head as she dared peek around the stone wall at him.

It was a restricted glimpse, enough for Renji to see a vague outline of her hair, the features of her face shadowed in the lack of light. She caught her breath, which nearly made her choke since she was already holding it.

A sudden cry from the streets above made Renji step back. There was another shout, and then a bell rang, sounding an alarm that sent feet thundering through the merchants and guards in Las Noches.

He looked back through the window, but the girl was gone. He strained to see more, knowing she'd pulled herself out of his sight. This time he did rattle the latch, cursing as it held tight. Down the main hall men were calling, the sound of swords being drawn echoing confusingly through the stone depths of the prison.

He figured it was Ichigo. Which also meant there was a good chance Rukia had been found. With a final glimpse into the dark, empty-looking locked cell, Renji turned and headed for the main corridor.

By the time he wound through the passageway depths to the main grounds where the merchants were pitching tents and raising stalls the merchants were in chaos. The disturbance arose from two heads of the gypsy clans vying for a coveted spot near the residence farther into the interior of the compound. Two very large and very dusty men were wrestling in the midst of a gathering crowd, and each was gaining support from their followers. Before Renji could let his eyes adjust to the bright light from his brief trip to the prison underbelly, the men were joined by two more, and then four more, until a free-for-all was brawling.

Renji looked around for Ichigo in the chaos, but all the scarved heads and hooded capes looked the same. He headed to the tower, skirting the outer edge of the disturbance as Aizen's guards drew swords on the gathering mob. He started circling around the tower's base, mumbling curses as the impenetrable structure offered no unlocked door.

"Up here!" came a harsh whisper.

Renji stopped, taking a step back to look up at the urgent call in the growing noise of the crowds. From a narrow window in the tall structure Ichigo's head protruded. He spied Renji, and then disappeared back inside. Renji gave the crowd and soldiers a quick glance, and barely looked up again before the small form of Rukia came plummeting down at him.

He didn't have time for a curse as the girl dropped. He caught her before she could utter a sound, which he was certain would be a reprimand for both he and Ichigo. Without thinking he crushed her in his arms, pulling her close to his chest as she made a gasp and began to struggle.

"Stop squirming," he told her, his embrace squelching any movement as he quickly dashed to the far side of the tower before anyone had spotted his catch. He held the bundle of tattered dress and thin figure of the girl close, burying her face in his shoulder for a second only to pull her back to look at her.

A mixture of fright and indignation stared back at her, her cheeks smudged with dirt and her hair a tumble of unkemptness. He grinned at her, which changed her pout to a smile.

"Hey, Lady Kuchiki," he said softly, forgetting the fiancé above them. "Are you all right?"

"I...I...so glad to see you two," she said, part of it muffled as she turned her face to his chest, her hand still wearing a broken cuff at the wrist tangling into his robe.

He felt a low sob start as she trembled in his arms. He knelt with her, oblivious to the crowd of turmoil on the other side of the tower. "You're all right. We'll get you out of here."

She nodded, wiping her face on his robe.

True to plan, Renji took Rukia unnoticed through the mobbing mass of gypsies and guards to where he and Ichigo had left the horses. He pushed her onto his horse and climbed up behind her, gathering the reins to head the horse for the gates that were unattended.

"We can't leave Ichigo," Rukia cried, twisting before him as she turned on the horse. She tried to see around him, her elbow digging into his stomach.

He made her face forward, wrapping part of the robe around her as they approached the gate. "He'll find his way out. Stay quiet."

"Renji, we can't —"

Her protests were cut short by his large hand over her mouth and then the excess of his scarf pulled over her head.

He glanced back at the growing melee that was rioting, now tearing down several of the tents the merchants had set up. A shout went up and several figures, these more regally dressed, approached from the residence, swords drawn. Renji had never seen Sousuke Aizen, but he had no doubt one of the men was the owner of Las Noches.

He looked to Ichigo as he approached at a trot from another side of the carts, face nearly hidden by his cowl. "Let's go!" he called as loudly as he dared.

Renji kicked the horse into a run as Rukia fought off the scarf over her head. Ichigo caught up with them as they reached the gate.

Renji didn't slow the horse as they passed through the massive gates, but he felt the pull at his conscious. He kicked the horse's sides harder, sending the mount into a gallop. He knew the five hour ride to the rendezvous town for the _Scarlet Reaper_ would be taxing as dark descended on the desert, but he also knew the gates of Las Noches would likely be locked soon in response to the merchant problems.

The trade road was empty as the two horses and three riders tore across it, leaving sand and dust in their wake.

And also, Renji too well understood, a girl abandoned in the depths of the prison. He shook the misplaced wash of guilt from his mind.

He'd come to Hueco Mundo for Rukia, not some nameless, faceless prisoner who most likely had her own ransom.

Rukia won her way out of the scarf. Her hands were balled tightly in his robe, her eyes on Ichigo behind them as the horses galloped over the heat of the desert.

Besides, the ship had little crew and needed every hand to get it under way back to Merristone, Renji told himself.

Perhaps time for a second trip into the prison later.


	3. Chapter Three

The days and nights didn't come and go with the rising and setting of the sun in the lower dungeons of Las Noches. Orihime Inoue had learned to mark the passage of time by the changing of guards and coming and going of her fellow prisoners.

So far she had forty-two marks etched onto the floor from an uneven piece of stone she'd pried loose from her cell wall. She leaned her back to the stone wall behind her in the dark, damp cell, a spot she'd made drier and warmer by sheer body heat. There wasn't much spare heat to use, really, as she'd shivered away most of her energy already that day. At first the sunken level of the prison had been welcome after the scorching heat of the desert after her travel with her abductor, who she knew was also the main guardsman of the prison.

She moved her feet to see the scratches marking the passing of days in the floor stone. She was too dehydrated to cry, and it had never done her any good the first week she'd been hostage anyway, so she didn't bother anymore.

Rumors drifted through the dungeon, some by guards, some as torment from the two guards Loly and Menoly who'd taken a dislike to her.

Orihime knew it. The two slight female guards made no pretense to their feelings about some of the prisoners.

Most rumors swirled around prisoners and ransoms, demands met and new demands made by Sousuke Aizen. Orihime had heard fewer lately. She knew it meant the ransomed were dead, or gone, or there was no money to be gotten for the hostage.

She also knew which category she had fallen into.

The rattle of keys and creaking of the cell door jolted her from her thoughts, making her pull her legs closer on the straw strewn floor, hands brushing the torn skirt over her knees as the shadows fell into her dark cell from the torchlight of the hall. As eager as she was to see any glimpse of light, the opening of the door meant a guard or worse. She'd heard women's screams of the worse, and the rattle of keys had made her dread the rays of light stretching into her cell.

She nearly sighed when she saw the familiar head guard, Ulquiorra, step into the dark.

He looked at her without expression, as usual, and then scowled at the unkempt state of his prisoner and her quarters. "When was the last time you got new straw?" he asked abruptly.

"Four days, I think," she said, voice raspy from lack of water.

He was dressed as all the guards, in a full tan shirt and black pants belted with scabbard and double baldric of other edged weapons. He nodded, eyes resting on her face as she pushed her uncombed hair from her eyes. "You're being moved."

She nodded, having no time to speak as he stepped in and lifted her to her feet by her elbow. He fit a key from a ring of keys into the lock at the wall that was attached to the cuffs at her wrists.

He unlocked the chain bolted to the wall as a shadow fell across the floor from the hall. Orihime looked there as the guard she knew as Nnoitra looked in. His leering grin was evident even in the poor light, and she knew also it was his voice that usually accompanied the screams of the women she'd heard.

"I can help you with that," he offered to Ulquiorra, eyes on Orihime as she tried to shelter in Ulquiorra's shadow as he freed the chain. "I don't mind a little dirt."

"I'm sure you don't." Ulquiorra took the loose chain and nodded to Orihime. "Let's go."

She followed him to the doorway, where Nnoitra gave them little room to pass. He drew a finger down her arm as she neared, chuckling as she flinched away.

"Haven't you a bounty to collect?" Ulquiorra asked, pulling Orihime quicker as her steps hesitated.

"Naw, Aizen Governor dropped the Kuchiki reward." Nnoitra grinned as Orihime squinted in the brightness of the corridor Ulquiorra led her down. "Must be a pricey little item you got here, Prison Master. She's had three ransoms paid on her already. Wonder what all the fuss is for." He grinned wider at her. "What you got under those skirts, pet?"

Orihime shifted away as the tall guard's fingers touched a rip in her dress at the shoulder, bare feet moving faster on the cool stone floor.

"Then you should be scheduled for gate guard duty," Ulquiorra said, blocking Nnoitra's attentions from his prisoner with a dismissive frown.

Nnoitra dropped his hand. "I got a while yet. Grimmjow's still a little sore about the escape happening on his watch." He chuckled, winking a crooked eye at Orihime until she looked ahead of them down the prison hall. "Guess twenty lashes will do that, huh?"

Ulquiorra pushed Orihime before him out of Nnoitra's reach. "It was during his gate watch when she escaped. His responsibility," he said, his hand with Orihime's chain now on her shoulder. "Find Loly or Menoly and tell them to bring clean straw for the prisoner's new cell."

Orihime kept her eyes before her, steps outpacing the men behind her as Nnoitra grumbled.

She didn't watch as the taller guard left, thankful he was gone, even if it was only for a brief time. Nnoitra always made his rounds at night, before his shift at the walled compound's main gate. She hoped he wouldn't find his way to her new cell.

Ulquiorra turned her down another dimly lit corridor and stopped her before an open door. Far behind the way they'd come she heard a metal gate slam shut.

"We're barring off most of the exterior exits," Ulquiorra told her as he pushed her into an open doorway in the brick wall.

She went to the far wall of the cell, which was just as dark as her previous location, but a little less dusty. It was bare except for a bucket, and Ulquiorra wasted no time bolting her chain to the wall near one corner.

"Will I go home next time my ransom is paid?" she asked, forcing the words through her dry throat. It wasn't the first time she asked, and she doubted it would be the last. "Please? My brother has paid several times over, and –"

"That is not my decision," Ulquiorra told her, testing the chain as he looked to her. "Perhaps next time."

She bit her lips against saying more, tasting salt and dirt from her surroundings. She hadn't bathed in her time in the cell, devoting little of her allotment of precious water to attempting any sort of hygiene. "He isn't wealthy like some of the other families," she reminded, knowing her jailor wasn't her real captor. "We're not a noble family. We don't —"

"If Lord Aizen decides to release you, then you will be released," he said, turning as she was about to plead again. "Not until."

She sighed, leaning to the cool stone wall as he went to the door and left without looking again to her. She waited for the thick door to shut, but instead two smaller figures entered. She immediately knew the smirks of Loly and Menoly, attendants who sometimes doubled as guards when they weren't changing straw or emptying piss pots. They cast Orihime loathing looks, Loly especially spiteful, both with armfuls of straw.

"I don't see any reason to throw down straw here, do you?" the black haired girl said. "No one here to use it."

Orihime didn't waste any effort trying to speak to the women. She'd learned that much in her time there.

"No. No one here," Menoly agreed sarcastically. They dropped their straw at the far corner away from Orihime, watching her, enjoying the disappointment crossing her face.

The both cackled a giggle, until Nnoitra darkened the doorway. He grinned at Orihime.

"Get lost," he told the two women.

Orihime shuddered as he leered at her, sinking into the darker corner of the cell as the women giggled again and slipped past the tall guard. Nnoitra shut the door behind him.

"Handy thing about jail doors," he said, stepping closer, bringing with him a foul odor of stale whiskey. "They don't lock unless you lock them."

Orihime moved away from the long fingers he put to her cheek, wishing he would disappear into the shadows that engulfed the cell as the closed door muted all light. She withdrew, holding her breath as his face lowered to hers, his breath rank on her face.

"You want I should bring that straw a little closer? Or bring you some water, my wilted pet?" he asked, chuckling as her face turned from him. "You need a little watering. Sprucen you up some."

"No, thank you," she said lowly.

"Thank you? I ain't done nothing to thank me for yet." He chuckled, his hand moving from her cheek to her neck, sliding her dress from her shoulder.

"Please, don't do that," she said, chained wrists clamping to her chest to lock the dress to herself against his advances.

"Not much to choose from around here anymore," he said, lifting her chin to make her look at him. "You're still bringing a pretty price, though."

The cell door creaked open and Grimmjow came in, growling when the hall light hit the corner. "Unhand her, Nnoitra. She's in my section now," he said, one hand grabbing the back of the tall guard's shirt and jerking him from Orihime. "You've got gate duty."

Nnoitra stepped back. "Wait your turn. I'm first."

Grimmjow looked to Orihime, then eyed the straw. "Get out!" he barked at Nnoitra.

"I'm going," the taller guard grumbled, heading for the doorway.

Orihime breathed a bit easier as he left, then held her breath as Grimmjow looked back to her. She'd only seen him a few times in passing, his caustic stare making her avoid holding his attention for more than a second. "Thank you for making him stop."

"You're in my ward now," he said, eyes flicking over her as he stood closer.

She nodded, pulling her dress back up her shoulder. "Thank you."

He glanced at the straw in the opposite corner. "Loly and Menoly put that there?"

"Yes."

He turned to look at the door, which was half open, the light seeping faintly into the cell. The torchlight illuminated him from behind, one sleeve of his shirt dotted with red at the upper arm near his shoulder.

She thought of the flogging Ulquiorra had mentioned, the whispered rumors of Grimmjow's failure at allowing a prisoner to be rescued while he was on gate duty. Some said it was an escape, but she wasn't sure which it had been. She knew allies were scarce in the dungeon, and one less guard of Nnoitra's caliber would be welcome.

She chanced to reach one hand to Grimmjow's shoulder as he turned back to her. Her fingertips touched the blood spotted sleeve, her lips moving in silent kotodama, calling on the ancient healing sources her aunt had taught her as a child.

Grimmjow's sharp stare went to her fingers, and then his hand closed vice-like around her throat, pushing her to the wall. "What the hell are you doing?"

She caught what little breath she could before he moved, but her fingers stayed in contact with the sleeve, barely touching his arm beneath.

He glanced to the arm, feeling the muscles there regain whole again, the open wounds from the lashing healing along his shoulders and back. His hand slowly relaxed on the throat of the girl in his clutch, his wondering attention going back to her. "You're doing that?"

"Yes," she said, barely audible as she felt the healing draw from her limited strength. In most circumstances it would be simple to heal wounds such as whip lashes, but the task taxed her in her present malnourished state.

She wished she could have smiled at completing the healing, but she was too tired and her lips would have cracked. He looked back to her, his hand still resting at her neck, but no longer choking. For a moment his eyes narrowed on her, then dropped over her disheveled form in the poor light.

"Does Aizen know you can do that?"

She shook her head, grateful when his hand withdrew from her throat completely. "I don't know."

He drew up the sleeve of his healed arm, inspecting the process, his hand moving to his shoulder, amazed and still skeptical. He nodded, and then turned and strode to the doorway and looked down the hall.

Orihime flinched as he bellowed for Loly and Menoly.

The two small women came almost immediately, and when they didn't move fast enough, Grimmjow grabbed Loly by the collar and nearly picked her off her feet as he threw her into the cell.

"Straw goes to the prisoner! Get it right!"

Menoly stayed out of his reach, but scurried to gather the straw. Loly squealed an oath at Grimmjow, and then followed Menoly to help gather up the bedding.

Orihime avoided the women as they deposited the scooped up straw at her feet. The both cast her irate looks as Grimmjow waited at the door.

"Thank you," she told them meekly.

"Shut up," Menoly said beneath her breath.

"Bring a fresh bucket of drinking water," Grimmjow ordered Loly.

She glanced to him, pushing straw with one foot to Orihime. "She doesn't get water until the evening feeding."

"Do it now," he told her.

Loly threw Orihime a detestable look and obeyed, moving swiftly past Grimmjow at the door.

Menoly gave Orihime a brief look and then turned to Grimmjow. "You can't show favoritism to prisoners," she said. "You'll get punished again."

"Leave," he said to Menoly, eyes on Orihime.

"You can't –"

"I said leave!" he snapped.

Menoly lost her courage to argue further and darted past him.

Orihime watched her go, and then saw Loly return with a wooden bucket of water.

Grimmjow snatched it from her and pushed her back into the hall. He let the door swing behind him and took the bucket to Orihime, setting it within her reach.

"Thank you," she said, eyes staying on his as the cell was nearly eclipsed in darkness as the door creaked to within a few inches of closing.

"You're bringing a good price from your homeland," he said, leaning one hand on the wall near her, barely able to see her face in the dark. "You look parched. Aizen's prize ransom should look the part. Drink what you want; you can bathe with the rest."

Her fears surfaced momentarily, but he turned and walked to the door.

"Thank you, again," she said, taste buds eager at the thought of fresh water.

He left, the door clanging behind him, key rattling in the lock.

Orihime sunk to her knees in the straw, half from weakness and half from relief. She pulled the bucket closer, not quite aware of its proximity in the dark. Her eyes grew accustomed to the dark again and she cupped a handful of water as she leaned over the bucket.

It was tepid and floating with straw, but she drank as much as she could without choking. It had become a favorite game for Loly and Menoly to deliver her water in a leaking bucket and she was without water soon after her meals. It usually led to any bedding she had becoming soaked sooner, something that the guards didn't keep much track of, and something that she didn't want to bring to their attention.

Undue attention from the guards, any guards, was not something the prisoners wanted. Nnoitra was only too eager to lend aid when a female voice arose about water or wet straw. Orihime didn't complain about the lack of water.

She'd barely satisfied her thirst when she noticed the water level lowering quickly in the bucket. In the dark she felt around the sides of the bucket, feeling the soaked side where a split was allowing the water to leach out. She sighed, and then resorted to putting off any sort of bathing and drank the rest of the water.

She had little doubt treatment would be any better under the warden of her new location, but an extra dose of water was a good start.

Besides, healing his wounds had only cost her a few months.

* * *

The _Scarlet Reaper_ made good time returning to the port of Merristone. Docking was welcome, as Byakuya Kuchiki had made certain the ship was able to dock without issue, the groundage paid in advance, and the port master turning a blind eye to some of the rumors surrounding the ship of questionable reputation.

Renji was grateful for those details, making the voyage smooth, if irritating, watching his once-responsibility of Rukia Kuchiki smitten by Ichigo Kurosaki on _his_ deck. He ignored it, but insisted upon a few rules, namely that Rukia have the master cabin's bedchamber while Ichigo remained in the first mate's quarters. Ichigo begrudgingly abided, but not without protesting when Renji slept in the master cabin's fore room, albeit in a hammock. He eventually consented when Rukia asked him to relent, and Renji realized that Rukia's violet eyes could indeed charm. When she felt like it.

Even so, Renji was ready when they three set back out of Merristone to meet Byakuya at the Kuchiki residence three days later. As much as he wanted to rid himself of Kurosaki, and see Rukia safely returned to her brother, the haunting memory of the girl in the darkened dungeon cell gnawed at him. He'd set aside his conscience on a few matters since leaving life in Kuchiki service, and while not quite pirate, he'd realigned the parameters in which he was willing to work.

He'd sorted through who she could be, discarding most of the women and girls from the noble families and the few low ranking princesses that the Emperor had in the realm. He knew there were mistakes in Aizen's abductions. Girls and women without wealth but a title or the illusion of money, such as property.

It didn't matter too much to him which of these the girl was that he'd left in the dungeon; she was still there, and perhaps had no ransom. He waited in the drawing room while Byakuya made his way to them. Ichigo was slightly more comfortable in the sunny sitting room that seemed to welcome Rukia back with strong rays of light. She stood at the open garden doors, arms extended in the sunlight, smiling in the warmth, eyes nearly closed.

Renji watched her, hiding part of a grin at her eager reception of sunlight, knowing she'd had limited time with any natural light from her small tower room. She hadn't elaborated too much on her imprisonment on their voyage back, but he'd caught some of her descriptions when she'd recounted them to Ichigo.

They all looked to the open doorway as Byakuya appeared there with another man. The noble nodded, bemused, eyes seeking Rukia as soon as he stepped into the room. He held a hand up to the man who followed him, halting his speech.

"Rukia, finally," Byakuya said, crossing the marble flooring to embrace her. "Welcome home, sister."

She appeared somewhat surprised by his personable nature, but smiled, nodding as his arms came around her for a few moments before releasing her.

Ichigo and Renji both watched, slightly lost as to the nobleman's display. They glanced to the other man. He was obviously a Quincy, one of the few who remained and had been banished from the mainland. He wore the typical white shirt and pants of the clan, his sour expression steeled at the sister and brother reunion.

Rukia stepped back and bowed to her brother, smiling. "Thank you for –"

"No thanks is due," Byakuya said, patting her shoulder, eyes going to the few bruises at her arms. "You're well?"

"Yes, brother."

Byakuya turned to Ichigo, and then Renji. "I owe you both a debt."

"Not me," Renji said, shifting a look to the Quincy.

Byakuya looked to Ichigo. "Your place in the Kuchiki family is already established." He turned to Renji. "You know our terms, Captain," he added slowly. "I can arrange for the funds to –"

"I didn't do this for money," Renji growled at him, irritation rising. "You know that."

"You're to be compensated," Byakuya said, holding a hand up to the Quincy as he began to speak. "What do you want, Abarai?"

"Nothing from you." Renji nodded to Rukia. "I'll check back on you in a while. I've got another matter to attend."

"This is no small matter," Byakuya said, watching Renji's hand settle at his sword hilt. "Your reputation could do with a little polish."

Rukia put a hand to her brother's arm. "Perhaps a small banquet," she suggested, smiling as she looked back to Renji. "Would you come for that? Please, Renji?"

"I must insist," the Quincy said, his tone holding no appreciation for Rukia's return. "I implore you, sir. This is an urgent matter. I was told you could help." His hand gripped tighter around a lock of auburn hair. "You once showed interest –"

Byakuya held up his hand. "I will speak with you later on the matter."

Renji nodded to Rukia. "I'll visit you later," he told her, then gave Byakuya a sharper look. "Unless that's a problem for you."

"You are welcome in our house any time, Abarai," Byakuya said with little of his usual coolness. He turned to Rukia. "I think a banquet to celebrate your return is in order."

"How can you speak of banquets when your help is so desperately needed?" the Quincy asked. A sudden pain made him put a hand to his side, a wincing movement that was accompanied by a faint reddening of the white material there.

"You're injured," Rukia said.

"What's a Quincy doing here?" Ichigo asked, hand at his scabbard now at his side.

"My name is Uryuu, the younger Ishida," he said, pressing the hand to his side.

Byakuya called for a servant, who appeared at the doorway with a bow. "Have this man's wounds treated and then we'll see what he wants."

"I want your attention to this," Uryuu said, holding out the lock of hair as the servant turned back down the hall.

Renji glanced at the strands of auburn fastened with a tie of amber and garnet beads. He knew it was another ransom unmet, another attempt by Aizen to tax Seireitei's coffers for the cost of a woman's life. Reminded of his own conscience, he nodded to Rukia.

"I'll visit later."

Byakuya took the lock of hair, turning it over, seeing the gemstones catch the light from the open doors as Renji headed for the hall door, passing the servant bringing a towel and clean shirt. He turned down the paneled corridor.

"Would you be interested in another voyage to Hueco Mundo, Abarai?" Byakuya's voice followed him out.

Renji gritted his teeth against answering. The rich always thought they could buy a future, a loyalty, a man's day. Whatever the Quincy was requesting would demand a price for Byakuya, and Renji wanted no part of it. His time was his own now, and at present he had plans, which did not include his former employer's whim.

"There's money in it for you," Byakuya's tone echoed down the corridor as Renji left.

He didn't stop at the sunny entryway in the Kuchiki mansion at the front doors, nor did he answer the statement he knew was to tempt him into learning more of whatever Byakuya or the Quincy had in mind.

He pushed through the doors before the doorman could meet him and went out into the afternoon. The small boy who'd met them earlier that day for the horses immediately appeared at the grounds edge, calling to him in a language Renji didn't understand.

He ran off out of sight and Renji waited at the mansion's front, bracing himself from looking far up at the building, mind set to his next departure. Port security was tightening. Getting the _Scarlet Reaper_ sea bound was chancy, but the longer he waited, the less success he was likely to have.

Especially since he no longer had the protection of Byakuya Kuchiki or a passenger in Rukia. Renji knew that was the only reason he'd been able to dock in Merristone at all.

The boy appeared from around the mammoth house's side leading a saddled horse. Renji thanked him and climbed into the saddle, glancing up as he heard a small voice call to him. He looked to the third level where Rukia was standing at a balcony laced with ivy.

"Take care and hurry back, Renji," she called, waving.

He nodded, turning the horse down the long drive.

"And thank you."

He grinned at her. "Don't get married until I get back."

"What's your hurry?" Her voice turned amused. "You have a girl in port? Can't she wait a few days?"

"Not in port," he said, losing some of his grin. "I don't think she can wait, either."

She nodded. "Hurry back."

* * *

Leaving the harbor of Meritsone was without problem, and without one of Renji's usual choices as first mate. Izuru had retuned already that day, soused with ale and immediately went below to the forecastle to slouch into a hammock. Much as Renji wanted to wait out Shuuhei's dalliances in the local brothels and taverns, he wanted even more to slip out of port below the watch of the ship master overseeing the docks.

He waited for an hour, and after no sign of Shuuhei, drunk or otherwise, he gave orders to set sail without him. There was a slight ruckus when the _Scarlet Reaper_ left the docks, an outcry of the dock officer as Renji ordered the sails pulled by the half crew that had managed to return from their drinking bouts early that evening. The scuffle at the docks wasn't severe, a few promissory oaths called to him as the ship left the port.

Renji didn't take them too seriously. He was more concerned about his sparse crew. It was more manpower than he'd had on the previous voyage to Hueco Mundo, but still barely enough to make the trip safely.

* * *

The day's dry heat was at full power when the _Scarlet Reaper _docked in Blue Haven three days later. Renji had spent the time learning the map of Hueco Mundo and memorizing the oases and few roads inland. He left the now sober Izuru in charge of the ship with instructions for the next few days and set out into the trade town with second thoughts about his mission. He made the usual purchases to see him through travel to Las Noches, choosing a stout gray horse that the seller promised was as durable as any camel.

He joined up with a lagging crew of gypsies and their cart of carpets and bolts of cloth. No one spoke to him and he offered no conversation, except to a few young boys, hoping to find one to mind his horse should the need arise. He had no set plan, no real idea of how to get out of Las Noches with one of the prisoners, should he succeed in finding the same girl he'd seen earlier from their rescue of Rukia.

Perhaps she'd be gone, ransomed or rescued, or maybe he'd be too late for any such mission. He wasn't even sure why he was going back, except the sheer desolation of leaving anyone, especially a woman, in the sand pit of Las Noches left him tasting bile.

Five hours into the hot, dusty travel on the trade road and Renji was eager for the compound governed by Aizen to loom on the dunes. When it did appear, he urged the gray horse closer to the gypsy wagon he'd adopted and waved over a youth of about eleven years.

Renji leaned down in the saddle as the boy neared, suspicion in his eyes peeking over the cowl scarf across his face. "When we get to the city," he told the boy, "you mind my horse and I'll pay you two coins."

The boy nodded, eyes locked on Renji's at the thought of money. "Gold?"

_Greedy brat_, Renji thought. "Silver."

The boy nodded quickly. "A deal!"

"Good."

There was no problem slipping into Las Noches, as the first time, this time with the tall black haired guard at the entrance waving nearly everyone through. Renji recognized Nnoitra as the guard who'd inspected a few of the merchant wagon's on his initial trip into the compound. True to his word, once inside the gates, the gypsy boy reappeared from the milling throng of merchants and took the gray horse's bridle.

"Two silver?" he asked as Renji dismounted.

He nodded, eyes already on the gypsies and merchants setting up stalls and tents again in the half circle near the collection of buildings centered in the walled city. The place was much the same as it had been a week ago, the security no higher, it seemed. It made Renji wonder if Rukia was even missed yet.

He left the horse with the boy near where his family of vendors was setting up camp and pulled his cowl scarf over his face better, searching for the prison he'd accessed previously. He made his way there, undetected as a problem among the chaos of tents and stalls being erected, nodding or shaking his head to anyone who sent a call his way.

The prison doors to the blacksmith storage area was closed, but unlocked and Renji stealthily let himself in. The interior was unlit, the only dim light coming from the torches farther into the dungeon. He followed the hall to where it turned narrower, doors open to cells to either side of him as he silently followed the corridor.

He wasn't certain of the way back to where he'd left the girl a week ago, but within half an hour he knew he'd searched every inlet and cell he'd passed on the first visit. All the doors were unlocked and open, and the inlet where he thought the girl should be was empty.

It left him confused and beginning to think she'd already been ransomed. The chill air was welcome after the scorching heat of the day, but it was an eerie chill thick with dank, unwashed smells and old blood. From deeper within the sunken depths he heard a man's voice booming, followed by female voices.

"Stop it! Stop it, Grimmjow! You'll kill her!" one cried.

"You think Ulquiorra will stand by for this?" the man shouted, echoing down the stone corridors to where Renji was searching. A loud snap split the air sharply and a woman's cry sounded, followed by something being thrown about. "Get out or I'll kill you both!"

There was the thud of bodies against the wall and it sounded to Renji that there may well be corpses soon to follow. He made his way toward the commotion, which was now accompanied by a woman's painful cries and feet shuffling.

The sounds grew slower and he followed the dark corridor, conscious of another soft weeping closer. The hall was lined with cell doors, most open, the few torches lit flickering dancing shadows on the walls. He remained in the darker areas as footsteps retreated down the hall ahead.

"Where are the keys?" a woman's voice asked lowly from ahead, making Renji halt as Loly and Menoly came into view around the next corner.

He saw them leaned against the corridor wall, the lighter haired girl standing on one foot as her other leg failed to support her weight. Her hands grabbed at her thigh, her face leased with pain.

"That bastard," she mumbled. "I think it's broken."

Loly scowled at her, looking down the hall opposite from where Renji watched them. Her attention went back to Menoly. "Where are the keys?"

"I left them at the door. I dropped them when Grimmjow came in," Menoly said, her voice tight. "Go get them."

"I'm not going. I'll wait 'til he's gone for good."

She put her arm around Menoly's waist and supported more of the girl's weight. "Come on. We'll find them later."

Renji watched them hobble away, muted curses for the blue haired guard lacing their language. He waited until they were gone and then looked back to a dim corner of the corridor ahead where another sobbing sound was coming. The hall was quiet aside from the low crying, the two female guards' voices fading as they left. Renji cautiously found the only closed door in the hallway, the sounds inside sniffles and meek sobs.

He looked in through the small barred window, seeing nothing. The only light was from a torch further down the corridor, and he knelt to find the dropped keys. It took a few moments, the area around the door strewn with wet straw and dirt on the packed clay floor. He finally found them, a ring with half a dozen keys on it. He stood and took a moment to fit the correct key into the door's heavy lock.

Inside the sounds of crying suddenly stopped as the door opened. He pushed it slowly, minimizing the metal creak of hinges. The cell sunk in, part of it hidden by the corridor wall. He looked around the corner, seeing nothing but a shapeless shadow at the floor against the far wall.

Then the form recoiled, pulling her legs close, her chains rattling as she composed her sobs, taking definite female form.

Renji gave a quick glance behind him and went to the girl.

Orihime shrank from him, whimpering as he bent and pulled her to her feet. She saw only his eyes in the poor lighting from the hall, his face covered with the cape's cowl, knowing he wasn't any of the usual guards on duty. "Please don't," she whispered, her voice strained from thirst and dust. "Please don't hurt –"

Renji covered her mouth with his hand, frowning as her terrified eyes widened on him, their color lost in the darkness. "I'm getting you out of here," he said as her wrist pulled against his hand when he caught it. "Don't say anything."

She nodded slowly, swallowing as he removed his hand and singled a key from the ring. Her heartbeat pounded fiercely through her veins, making her feel faint from the unusual surge of blood. She watched him try another key as the first failed at the wrist cuff. He tried the keys at the wall side of the chain. She glanced to the door, and then back to his face inches from hers.

"Who are you?" she asked, leaning closer so her whisper wasn't heard beyond the cell. "Who sent you?"

"No one sent me." He pulled down his cowl. "How long have you been here?"

She glanced to the new scratches she'd made in the stone floor the past few days. "Forty-seven days."

His hands paused on the lock at her wrist cuff. He gave her a more thorough study. Most everything about her was indiscernible in the dark, the color of her eyes, her hair, the exact features of her face and body. But he could smell her, and it wasn't the smell he knew should be on anyone housed in a prison cell for over a week. He leaned to her neck, inhaling the scent mingled with dust in her hair and her skin, one hand going to her waist as she tried to move away from him. It was a vaguely familiar scent, of amber and musk oil, her hair dusty as he lingered a moment longer trying to identify the exotic scents she wore.

He shook his head, turning back to work on the lock at her wrist chaining her to the wall. "You don't smell like you've been here that long."

She withdrew slightly, hearing more than feeling the lock give way to the key he tried next. He moved to her other wrist, and then realized she was freed from the wall, but still trapped in the cuffs. He figured it was close enough for the moment.

He pushed her hair back from her face, trying to see her better in the dim lighting. She took half a step away, watching him guardedly.

"Not another word. Come on."

She nodded and followed him out of the cell.

It took twenty minutes to retrace Renji's steps to the entrance of the prison at the smithy storage area. They slipped away unnoticed by anyone, hearing the griping and whining from Loly and Menoly deeper in the dungeon as they passed unseen.

Once outside of the prison they were greeted with more darkness, but this time it was the natural dark of night. Renji pulled at her wrist as Orihime paused, looking heavenward at the stars winking overhead in the hot night.

She answered by following him through the milling gypsies and merchants, their presence obscured among the other women and girls moving in the night under the warm desert breeze in the complex. Her feet were unaccustomed to the sand holding the day's heat, making her step quicken as he found the gypsy boy minding the gray horse.

Renji tossed the boy two silver coins, and then a smaller gold coin. "That's to keep you quiet."

The boy nodded, grinning, giving Orihime a brief glimpse as Renji tightened the horse's saddle cinch. He loosened a canteen tied to the saddle, pulled the cork and handed it to her.

"Slowly," he said as she lifted the canteen to her lips and promptly choked on her first gulp of water.

She nodded, eyes closing as she took a longer drink of the warm water.

He unbuckled a pack rolled behind the saddle and shook out the large embroidered shawl he'd purchased with the cloak and horse in Blue Haven. The vibrant colors were indistinct in the night, and the length would cover most of her, even pulled over her head. He glanced to where some of Aizen's overseers moved through the gypsies and merchants, then looked to the gates in the distant wall.

"We're leaving," he told Orihime when she'd finished half of the water.

She handed back the canteen, watching him warily. "Where are you taking me?"

He plugged the canteen and tied it to the saddle, seeing her look to the chain to her wrist he still held. "Out of here, for a start."

She licked her lips, her thirst only dampened. "You're not a gypsy or tradesman?"

He shook his head. "Save your questions."

He took the horse's reins, and then draped the shawl over Orihime's head. He pulled one end over her shoulder, adjusting it so little of her face was visible. Her dusty cheeks were streaked with smudged tears.

She looked to each of his eyes in the faint light from the torches at the nearest tent setting up. "You're not one of the guards, either."

He shook his head, eyeing Aizen's men moving among the tents and stalls. He turned Orihime to the horse's side. "Climb up."

She put a hand to the saddle, looking from the chain at her wrist to where it ended in Renji's grasp, her doubts of trading one captor for another. "You said no one sent you."

He felt the urgency to escape the grounds pushing on them. "No one sent me; now get in the saddle."

She wrapped one hand in the horse's mane at his withers, her fingers reluctant as her mind raced through her new situation. She looked up at him, trying to read more in his face, her legs weak from the unaccustomed activity.

"Where will we go?"

Renji didn't retort the first words that came to his mind. Instead his hands closed around her waist and he lifted her into the saddle, bringing a small yelp from her.

She was still positioning her tattered skirt over her legs as her climbed up behind her and took the reins.

"We get out of here first," he said, face crowding to her cheek as he pulled the scarf better over her mouth, the soft scent of expensive fragrance still on her skin beneath the layer of dust. "Later we'll talk about _where_."

She nodded, holding the scarf to her shoulder. She flinched slightly as both his arms came around her to gather the reins, turning the horse out of the gypsy camp toward the gates.

Renji forced himself the let the horse remain at a docile walk to the gate, trailing after a few camels and merchants that had packed to leave for the night. He waited their turn in the short line as Nnoitra gave a careless wave of his hand at the entry, gesturing them through with barely a nod.

Renji followed the camels for a few minutes down trade road, sending a cautious glance behind them as the gate creaked shut.

Orihime turned to see the mammoth gates move, shutting in the merchants. She tried to focus on Renji close behind her, but he only gave her a brief glimpse before his attention went to the road stretching out before them.

She looked out across the darkening desert still dry and hot in the early nightfall. The weariness of the day and little water caught up with her, but the uncertainty of her immediate future kept her from leaning against the chest behind her until Renji turned the horse off the road for the wide bank of uninterrupted sand to the north.

He heeled the horse into a gentle lope over the sand, sending Orihime's mind into a flurry of unasked questions. She glanced back to Las Noches as it faded out of sight over a dune.

She sighed, letting herself lean back against him, curious and exhausted.


	4. Chapter Four

No one wanted to approach Aizen with news of Orihime Inoue's disappearance, but someone had to. It came down to Ulquiorra, who made note of the particulars, such as guard duties and first notice of her absence.

Grimmjow made notes, too, namely of the whereabouts of Loly and Menoly when the prisoner was discovered absent from her cell. All parties were summoned before Aizen the next day in the main meeting room, which set no one at ease.

Aizen sat at the head of the room in his usual throne out of the bright sun that shed into the palatial marble decor, reading the latest of the few remaining demands for ransom. Before him Ulquiorra, Grimmjow and Nnoitra waited, each with their own story at the ready, each with varying degrees of accuracy and sour expressions.

Aizen frowned at the parchment before him, rereading the last few lines on it. "So Sora Inoue of Weaver's Isle has no more ransom for our hostage," he finally said, looking at no one but speaking to all present. "I suppose it's time to dispose of his wife."

Ulquiorra cleared his throat, not looking at Nnoitra or Grimmjow. "We don't have his wife, sire."

Aizen nodded, still reading the letter. "Daughter? Is she profitable?"

"His sister," Ulquiorra reminded. "Yes, she has been profitable."

"How many times has her ransom been paid?"

"Four times," Ulquiorra answered.

Aizen's clinical stare flicked up. "Four? Very good. But if this Inoue is exhausted of ransom...Weaver's Isle? That could be a pivotal post in our war against the mainland."

Nnoitra chuckled. "Seireitei hasn't allowed trade with the island since the Silk Wars. They ain't exactly friendly."

Aizen waved this away. "That won't matter. With the Isle in my control I'll make it what I need it to be. A harbor that close to the mainland will be an ideal post for our fleet."

None of the other men present mentioned the fact that, so far, Aizen had very little _fleet_; there was a back to flog and each knew they were candidates for Tousen's whip.

"If there is no ransom to be had for the girl," Aizen continued, a cruel smile twisting one side of his mouth, "then another proposal will be made. This girl," he said, looking to each of the guards, "will she clean up well? Which is she? That little snip of a noble with the black hair?"

Grimmjow growled down a comment at the description. "No. Not that one."

"She's the curvy one," Nnoitra offered, nodding as he smiled. "With the copper hair."

Aizen's smiled turned appreciative. "Ah, I remember. The fragrant one. Yes, she'll clean up well." He looked to Ulquiorra's staid expression. "Have her bathed and brought to me."

Grimmjow couldn't let the moment pass without speaking. "She's also the one who went missing last night."

"From your sector," Nnoitra said to Grimmjow before Ulquiorra could speak.

"During your gate watch," Ulquiorra shot back as Grimmjow began to reply.

"That's the one who's missing?" Aizen said, lowering the letter as he looked to Nnoitra. "You let a _profitable_ prisoner escape?"

Nnoitra shrugged, gesturing to the parchment. "She ain't worth so much now, sire. You said the brother is outta —"

"The brother is dead," Aizen corrected. "This letter is from a Quincy, apparently in some sort of official capacity now on the island." His severe stare leveled on Grimmjow. "How did she become absent?"

Grimmjow gave half a shrug, which was a much easier movement after his back and shoulder had been healed. "She was gone this morning. Shackle was unlocked from the wall." He grinned a little. "During last night's gate watch."

"Now wait a minute," Nnoitra said, hand going to his sword hilt as Grimmjow turned a steely glare on him. "Just because –"

"Our gate keep is the first and last line of defense," Aizen said briskly to Nnoitra, hand tightening on the letter. "I find allowing a profitable prisoner to disappear a greater offense than losing an unsuccessfully ransomed noble's sister. Your fine will be doubled." He nodded to a doorway to one side of the room that was curtained off. "You can meet Tousen for forty before leaving for your bounty mission."

Nnoitra rose to his full lanky height, lips losing their usual sneer. "Now wait, sire. I think it's –"

"Don't bother thinking," Aizen told him, glancing again to the letter. "You can meet Tousen now."

There was a moment of mumbled cursing, Nnoitra's hand gripping the sword at his side as he debated obeying. He finally nodded, not looking to Ulquiorra or Grimmjow as he crossed the room to the curtained doorway.

Grimmjow didn't grin, but he wanted to. Ulquiorra remained silent, watching Aizen read the letter again.

"This Inoue girl has obviously had assistance escaping," Aizen said, looking to Ulquiorra, and then to Grimmjow.

Neither spoke, and Aizen nodded.

"Bring in Loly and Menoly," he said, rolling the letter. "I've noted some tension with them about a few of the prisoners."

* * *

Renji didn't head them to the first oasis marked on the map. If anyone noticed the prison break and sent a recovery party after them, he figured they'd also assume the closest source of water would be the first place to search. He didn't want to chance it, not when he was in uncertain territory.

They departed the trade road soon after leaving Las Noches in the early nightfall and set off across the deep sandy dunes heading north. Within minutes they were engulfed in beige sand and gray-blue sky that darkened more by the moment.

Orihime's fear at being shackled in the belly of the prison was exchanged for one of her uncertain future. The exhilaration of leaving the prison for the first time in weeks gave way to the very real confines of the man sitting behind her.

Her rescuer, she knew, but she did not know why.

He'd offered no conversation during the first few hours of travel, and she didn't try to ask any questions. Her mouth was dry and her body weary. She'd missed the scant supper that was supplied every night in her cell, and the lack of water over the day made her thinking unclear.

She was aware, however, that they were in the midst of the desert. Her mind faded in and out over those hours as her weariness outweighed her fear and she found herself drifting into an uneasy and abrupt sleep a few times. Each time she awoke with a start as the arms around her kept her upright in the saddle.

The last time she flinched as the horse stopped, for a moment disoriented in the dark, warm night. The horse had dropped to a trot and the man's arms around her were especially snug. In her limbo of exhausted sleep and wariness she reacted with a sudden flinch, trying to shrug from the embrace immobilizing her.

Renji stifled her movements as he reined the horse down to a walk. "Stop fidgeting," he told her, feeling her tense again as she tried to turn to see him in the pale moonlight. He moved her shawl back to view her better. "We're stopping soon. You can walk around then."

He nodded ahead and she looked to see a small dark spot emerge from where the slope of one dune met another. A few upright shapes were clustered, and the smell of water hung in the air, making the horse's ears prick forward.

Orihime didn't fight him. Waking up on the horse and with her rescuer was enough of a startle, but she almost welcomed the contact. She hadn't realized she'd become so eager for human touch after deprivation over the weeks in the prison. She subsided, making an effort at stilling her fears at her new situation. At least in the dungeon she'd known the dangers.

She licked her lips, trying to moisten them enough to speak, but was too parched to attempt it. The horse readily approached the oasis, which was little more than a watering hole with a growth of bulrushes surrounding the pool of water and a few craggy rocks mingled with palm trees leaning east.

Renji stopped the horse at the small retreat and dismounted. He kept his hand on Orihime's shackle chain, seeing her hands grip the reins as soon as he was off the horse.

He gave her a sharp look, the warning in his eyes evident even in the dark. "You take that horse and get away from me, and you'll have the desert and anything Aizen sends after you to deal with single-handedly," he told her, seeing her posture stiffen. "Come down and get some water. We're resting here."

Orihime's hands remained firm on the reins, eyes searching his face, trying to determine anything familiar about him. "Who are you?" Her fingers tightened on the leather straps as his hand closed over them. "Why did you take me away?"

Renji tried to keep his voice calm. "Listen, I didn't steal you from Aizen to harm you." He pulled the reins from her hands, catching her skirt as her leg tensed at the horse's side. "If you start talking to me, maybe I can take you back to wherever you belong."

"Another ransom?" She caught her breath as he reached up and grabbed her waist, pulling her off the horse and steadying her on her trembling feet in the sand. "We don't have much money. My brother doesn't –"

"Enough with the ransom talk," he said, frowning as she turned her face from him, as if expecting to be struck. "You say you're not wealthy, but Aizen isn't stealing milk maids and net menders. He must think you've got some means of raising a ransom, so you're no vagabond or gypsy. You're worth something."

She nodded, looking back to him when he didn't strike her. "If you take me back to my brother, he'll pay you. I don't know how much," she added, hoping to allay his frustration with her, "but he'll pay you something. Whatever he can."

He brought the reins over the horse's head and tugged at the chain to Orihime's cuffs. "I'm not after a ransom for you. Let's get some water."

They went to the pool where the sandy beach front broke from the rushes and knelt to sample the cooler water, finding it sweet. For several long moments each satisfied their immediate thirst, Renji noting the girl watched him out of the corner of her eye as she cupped water in her hands to her lips. He didn't let her drink much, knowing the stomach spasms that accompanied too much water after being without for long. Just as he was going to mention it, she sat back on her knees, wiping her face with the shawl, taking some of the smudge from one cheek.

He stood and unbuckled the saddle from the horse, letting Orihime take the chains to her cuffs as he moved away to the tallest of the palm trees. He dropped the saddle against a rock and rubbed the horse's sides, feeling its stomach rumble as it eyed the water again.

He spoke to it for a few moments, watching the girl try to comb her hair with her fingers, a task that proved futile, hearing the rattle of the chain as she moved. He turned back to the horse and loosened the bridle and slipped out the bit from its mouth. "Don't go far," he told it.

Renji and Orihime settled at a rock near the rushes of the pool's edge, watching the horse drink greedily from the water as soon as it was left on its own. He removed the cloak and spread it on the sand, nodding to it as Orihime glanced at him.

She slowly sat on the edge, pulling her shawl to her shoulders, smiling at the cooler air on her neck. Renji sat down and took her arm and brought her wrist closer, turning it to inspect the shackle cuff.

He dug the keys he'd kept from the prison from his pocket. "You said your ransom has been paid?"

She nodded slowly, watching him choose a key from the ring. "Yes."

"How many times?"

"Three, I think."

He fit the first key into the lock at her wrist, turned it, and when that one remained tight, tried another. "You've really been there forty-seven days?"

She nodded again.

He tried a third key. "There's no point in lying to me," he said, discarding the third key for another on the ring. "You've either gotten there more recently than you claim or you've had some of the better upkeep in your daily habits, shall we say." He grinned when she pulled slightly from him, the alarm evident on her face even in the moonlight. "If your skin still holds any scent of perfume – which it does," he added leaning to her as she shied, "your family can afford a dozen ransoms. You're either nobility or a lesser princess. If you ranked high, the Emperor would have had you rescued."

"I'm not of royalty or nobility. We're not wealthy," she said as he hovered close, bracing herself from moving away again. She shook her head. "We're not rich. We, we trade when we can. That's all."

He nodded, holding her arm tight as he gave her neck and face a better scrutiny. Among the darker smudges of dirt he could see faint bluish spots on her neck and arms, something that immediately raised his fury. He scowled at the marks, bringing her closer to inspect a particularly dark abrasion at her collarbone.

She flinched as his hand moved the drape of her shawl, but stilled when he drew the embroidered material back.

"Who did that to you? A guard?"

"The women guards," she said, tensing as his fingers moved the shawl. She looked to each of his eyes, trying to discern the unusual appearance of his dark brows in the poor light. "One of the other male guards stopped them."

"Which one?" His gaze dropped over her figure, pausing at the generous shape her bosom made in the dirty dress until she pulled the shawl closer to her chest. "What did you give him in return?"

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head immediately, a blush forming at her cheeks. "I gave no one anything there."

He nodded. He went back to working on the cuff and a few seconds later it opened. He shucked off the metal band and rubbed her wrist, which he noted was scratched and raw in a few spots. "What's your name?"

She hesitated answering, which brought a deeper frown from him.

"Your name."

"Orihime." She took her arm as he released it, cradling it to her chest, her fingers rubbing the more tender areas where the metal had chaffed the skin.

He chuckled. "Do you spin or weave?"

"No." She smiled a little when he grinned.

He took her wrist still wearing the cuff, but before he could attempt the key, a labored cough came from the other side of the pool. They both looked there as the horse heaved noisily, its mouth open as its sides shook after drinking the water too quickly.

"Damnation," Renji said, standing and pocketing the keys. "Some camel. Making itself sick." He nodded to Orihime. "Get cleaned up while I walk the fool horse."

She nodded as he left, watching as he scolded the horse. She waited a few moments, seeing him rub the horse's side and neck, making it pick its drooping head from the water and walking it in circles to alleviate the stomach spasms.

She looked to her other cuffed wrist, and then stood and moved to the thicker rushes at the water's edge. It took a few moments to pull the torn and dirty dress off, but she managed to slip out of it and finagle it over her still shackled arm. She kept out of sight from the man and horse, rinsing the dress at the sandy pool water before laying it over a patch of stiff reeds. With a cautious glance to Renji at the other side of the pool, she waded into the water.

The cool liquid lapped at her skin as she quickly eased into it, smiling at the feel of so much water after her drought of prison life. She waded to her waist, the water level surprisingly deep, wiggling her feet in the soft sand in the dark depths. She lowered to her shoulders and washed her face, letting her nose and eyes dip into the water until she couldn't hold her breath any longer. She sank to her chin and let her hair fall back, closing her eyes against the starry sky as she washed the weeks of dust and filth from her hair.

She made a thorough cleaning of every strand of hair in the darkness, losing herself in the ritual, pulling the knots and tangles from her hair as it weighted with water. She scrubbed her skin as best she could with handfuls of sand she dove under to retrieve, smiling at the feel of the wet texture on her skin.

On impulse, she raised her arm to her nose, sniffing the wet skin from her elbow to as high as she could on her shoulder. It smelled no different to her. Well, she reconsidered, it didn't smell of perfumed oil; just of nothing. She supposed it was possible, after years of liberal use of perfume and fragrant oils, to retain some scent. She had never noticed it.

She frowned, recalling what her rescuer had said, looking around for him and the horse. She yelped and sunk to her chin again when she saw him sitting at the bank near her dress.

Renji grinned at her start, wishing she'd taken a moment longer before noticing his presence. She turned her back to him, for a few moments remaining unmoving in the dark, and then looked to him over her shoulder. It was that moment, at that angle, that he knew he'd gotten the right girl, the same one that had peeked at him from around the dungeon cell wall a week ago. He'd had misgivings it was the same girl a few times, knowing there were perhaps others in the underground confines of Las Noches. It had been a brief glimpse of her, but what he could see of Orihime's profile removed any doubts.

She saw him grab something from the sand near him and stand. She backed up a few steps, the water welling higher around her as it deepened.

He held up the dress he'd bought in Blue Haven with the shawl, surprising himself at the forethought. "You can change into something clean, if you want to," he called across the small pool, seeing her nod slightly. "It might fit you."

"Thank you," she said, watching him set the dress on the bank.

"We'll eat when you come out."

She nodded and waited for him to leave or at least turn his back.

Instead he knelt at the edge of the water and washed his face and arms, pushing back his sleeves as she remained nearly submerged in the water. When he stood and turned back to where the horse was belching near the saddle, Orihime eased slowly to the shore. She waited until Renji was occupied with the horse to slip out of the water and dry with her old dress before pulling on the new one. It was cornflower blue, with small seed beads of uncertain color sewn at the collar and neckline. She adjusted it over herself, deftly moving the chain and cuffs as she dressed, and smoothed the skirt, pleased at its length to her shins.

She combed her hair over her shoulder, feeling less resistance in her fingers as her hair lay smoother. She gathered the shawl and her old dress and joined Renji.

He'd set out the few pieces of smoked fish and hard bread he'd brought, watching her sit on her knees on the cloak, inching closer to the few offerings of food.

"Help yourself," he said, wishing the moon would shed more light on her so he could see better who he'd risked his neck for. "But eat slowly."

She nodded, breaking the biggest piece of tough bread in half and handing him the larger chunk as he sat down. "Thank you. My brother will repay you as much as he is able."

He shook his head, leaning against the tree behind him and taking a bite of the bread. "I don't want anything from your brother. Orihime."

The bulge of bite in her cheek stopped as she looked to him, her eyes growing rounder as she studied his face. "Then what do you want?"

He shook his head, grinning at the look crossing her face. "Not what you're thinking," he said, taking a moment to glimpse the fit she gave to the blue dress. "Not that you don't provide the provocation, but I didn't rip you away from Aizen for personal use," he told her, using the less invasive words that seemed necessary.

She swallowed the bite of bread, barely tasting it. "Then why did you help me?"

"I was at Las Noches about a week ago when we were searching for another girl," he said, leaving out names for the moment. He took a piece of smoked fish from the unwrapped cloth and broke it in half, handing her part. "I saw you then."

She took the fish he offered, frowning. "But you came back?"

He nodded, taking a bite of the fish, realizing salted, smoked fish was probably not the wisest choice for desert travel with limited water. No wonder the merchant had pushed it on him at such a fair price.

"I remember you," she said, nodding, studying him for a moment. "I remember seeing you."

"You were in another part of the dungeon then."

"They moved the remaining hostages."

He took a long drink from the flask he'd filled and handed it to her. "How many are left?"

"I don't know. Not many, I think."

For a few moments they ate in silence, the weariness of the long hours of travel catching up. To Renji's surprise, she ate nearly as much as he did. A few times he caught her staring at the black points of tattoos on his forehead at the edge of his black headrag. She said nothing, averting her eyes when he saw her attention. The day's exhaustion pulled at her, and he told her to sleep for a while before they set off again.

She did as he said, curling away at the far side of the cloak, the shawl at her shoulders and her old tattered dress draped over her feet. He watched her breathing beneath the dress, eyes following over the curve of her hip as her hands balled in the shawl's fringed edge at her chest.

"What's your name?" she asked, opening her eyes just enough to see him.

Renji wasn't sure it was a good idea to tell her. His name wasn't as well known as Zaraki's, and for different reasons, but what was known wasn't generally polite dinner conversation. Byakuya Kuchiki had made certain Renji knew that.

"Renji," he said, leaving it at that.

She nodded, eyes closing again. "Thank you for rescuing me."

He nodded slowly, leaning back against the tree. He glanced to the horse nibbling long blades of grass near the water. As far as he could see across the dunes was nothing but sheets of uninterrupted sand. There was no sound, no animals or birds to be heard. He looked to Orihime now sleeping. He hadn't really thought much about what to do with her except take her home. It seemed like the natural option.

But she was reluctant to tell him much. He wasn't sure why, except for the expected caution being imprisoned would bring. He closed his eyes against the low light of the moon. For a moment his mind wandered down the alleys of ransoms and rewards. It wasn't what had motivated him to extract her – Orihime – from Las Noches, but it was a tempting offer at compensation. Something about the idea, however, didn't appeal to him as much as he thought it should. He supposed Byakuya would call it an attempt at gallantry or succumbing to a guilty conscience.

He opened his eyes to see Orihime watching him.

"Is she your wife?" she asked quietly. "The girl you came to find last week."

"No."

Her fingers clutched tighter around the shawl at her chin. "A lover?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "No. Not a lover. Is that what rich girls do to pass the time? Make up stories about lovers and rescues?"

Her lashes lowered as she looked to the shawl in her hands. "I'm not rich, Renji."

He nodded, watching her eyes close again.

For a few moments she laid still, and then her fingers relaxed, her breathing becoming rhythmic as she fell asleep.

Renji bent one knee and rested his elbow on it. Perhaps she'd be more forthcoming with information in the morning.

* * *

Morning saw a new problem on the horizon for Renji. No sooner had he awoke to the horse stomping impatiently than he spotted a horse and rider on a far dune behind them, the way they'd taken the night before from Las Noches.

He retied his headrag, eyes sharp on the small, tall figure in the distance of early morning heat ripples. The advancing figure was barely discernible, but moving at a constant speed.

He tightened the scabbard to his waist and moved to Orihime still sleeping at their campsite.

"Wake up," he told her, shaking one shoulder encased in the shawl. "We're leaving."

At first she pulled from him, eyes widening until she recognized him, recalling their flight together, and then she sat up so quickly her head butted under his chin, nearly making him bite his tongue completely _off_.

"Damn, girl," he grumbled, rubbing his chin as she shrugged on the shawl and stood up before he could.

"Oh, sorry," she said, whisking the cloak up and shaking it.

Renji stood and stopped her movements. "No time for that. We've got company."

She squinted in the bright morning and looked to where he pointed to the figure in the distance that was closing across the slope of dune. "Who is it?" she whispered, stepping closer to him as her fingers shook on the cloak.

He frowned at her, feeling her arm tremble in his hand. "Don't be afraid yet. They could be anyone."

He didn't mention that a lone traveler cutting across the desert half a day from any of the trade roads and without pack animals was most likely someone in pursuit of them.

Her, more precisely.

"Come on. Stay quiet."

"Okay."

Within moments Renji had the horse saddled and every canteen filled with water, and he set off with Orihime north again, toward where, he hoped, Izuru had taken the _Scarlet Reaper_ to the port town called Dove. The horse was not eager to move away from the source of water, but obeyed Renji's commands as he turned it north.

For an hour the figure behind them stayed at a distance, never gaining or falling behind, and Orihime breathed easier that they could keep ahead. She didn't try to guess who it was, but she did know that the guard known as Nnoitra was generally summoned by Aizen when there was a bounty to collect. She shuddered thinking about it, knowing few of the remaining captives were still bringing ransoms, and knowing she was one.

Behind her Renji let one arm come around her waist as the horse moved at an easy canter across the hot sand. "He's not gaining," he said in her ear.

She nodded, swallowing down some of her fear.

He remained near and she chanced to look at him, eyes focusing on the black tattoos beneath his headrag. She looked back to the sand before them, mind scrambling for something familiar she couldn't quite grasp in the blazing morning sun.

For the next three hours the figure behind them kept its distance, but once they topped the tallest of dunes and the northern coast of Hueco Mundo came into view, the rider tailing them kicked his horse into a run.

Orihime watched this as Renji let the gray horse rest at the top of the dune, peeking around his shoulder at the small tall figure behind them growing larger.

"He's gaining now," she said, turning to look up at him.

He nodded and started the horse down the opposite side of the sandy hill that dissolved into scrub grass and jagged rocks. His eyes moved over the coast. The port of Dove was exactly as the merchant in Blue Haven had described it; tiny, with two docks, a smattering of buildings on the waterfront, barely enough to call it a village.

But most welcome was the sight of the _Scarlet Reaper_ tethered at one of the docks, sails and flags furled in an attempt at anonymity.

Orihime leaned back against Renji as the horse took the slope of sand at a dangerous speed, raising a large dusty cloud in its wake. When they reached the faint trail leading through the scrub and bleached driftwood to the town, she sat straighter in the saddle, trying to see the ship at the dock. The pier was vacant except for a few crewmen loitering, angling fishing lines off into the water. No villagers were around, the day's heat calling for an early nap.

Renji let the horse slow to a trot, his arm anchored around Orihime as she turned to look behind them.

He glanced to the slope they'd just descended, seeing no one. "We're sailing soon," he told her as she bit her dry lower lip. "There's not another ship in sight. Whoever it is can't follow us once we board."

She spun around in the saddle, eyes locking onto the ship.

He felt her tense in his arm, a sudden shift away from him.

"We're sailing?" she gasped. "Where to?"

"Tell me where you belong, Orihime, and perhaps we'll set a course for there."

She shook her head as the horse jogged up to the dock. She glanced at Izuru crossing the ship's deck as he spotted Renji.

"I didn't ... I didn't know..." she said, dry voice faltering as she frantically searched the ship's hull for the escutcheon. She found it, a whimper escaping her. "The _Scarlet Reaper_?" She turned as much as she could on the horse to see him, one hand embedding in his cloak sleeve. "You're with the _Scarlet Reaper_?"

He grinned at her evident dismay, turning the horse to the dock. "Don't look so shocked, Orihime."

"You're a pirate?"

Renji halted the horse at the dock as three young boys ran out from seemingly nowhere to take the bridle, each clamoring to tend his mount. He climbed off the horse and kept the reins, reaching a hand up to Orihime.

Her eyes were still on the ship, shaking her head as Izuru was joined by more crewmen hailing them.

Renji waved to Izuru and the blond man immediately gave orders to ready for sailing.

"No," Orihime breathed, shaking her head as Renji looked back to her. "No, no, no, no..."

He took her wrist as she grabbed the reins. "Come on. We're sailing."

She shook her head, legs tightening on the horse's sides as it danced and snorting as the boys pulled at its bridle. "You're a pirate, Renji?"

"Not pirate. Come on," he growled, taking her arm and waist as she resisted. "I figure we've got fifteen minutes at most before our follower reaches us. Let's go."

He pulled her off the horse against her protests, and then waved the boys away with the horse. His arm came around Orihime's shoulders as she balked, bare feet bracing at the dock's edge as he tried to convince her to walk.

"Renji, please," she said, shaking her head and pushing against him, "I didn't know you – You're Captain Abarai?" She sucked in her breath, her elbow catching his side as he shoved her into motion again. "I didn't realize that's who you were. Please don't –"

"Damn it, Orihime," he said low in her ear, his arm anchoring at her waist to nearly lift her off her feet. "I'm not a pirate. We're getting out of hell before we get caught!"

Her resistance turned into desperation. "Please don't," she said weakly as he forced her up the dock. "I didn't know you were a pirate. I didn't –"

His hand came over her mouth as they reached the gangplank reaching from the ship to the dock. He glared at Izuru and the few crewmen watching them curiously. "Get us underway!" he ordered, heaving Orihime onto the gangplank and to the ship's deck. "We've got a follower."

Izuru looked to the end of the dock, and then down the lane leading to the docks from the small village as Nnoitra appeared astride a sweaty horse. "All hands to ropes!" he called, gesturing to the nearest crewman to retract the gangplank.

"Shove off!" Renji ordered to the dozen men standing at the portside rail watching Nnoitra kick the weary horse into a run.

It was the last command Orihime heard as Renji dragged her to the master cabin under the quarterdeck, the hand at her mouth moving to settle at his sword hilt. Her struggles ceased as she grabbed the stairwell rail to the causeway, effectively stopping their progress.

Renji turned on her, hand still on her cuffed wrist.

"Please don't take me away," she pleaded, pulling from him, her hand locked on the rail.

"Do you want to stay here for that?" he demanded, nodding to Nnoitra nearing the town side of the dock.

She glanced behind her at the tall bounty hunter. A sudden lurch of the ship made her hold on the rail change. She looked to the ropes being pulled from the posts on the dock, allowing the ship to slip free of the pier.

She shook her head at Renji. "But you're a pirate. What do you want with me?"

Renji growled down his choicest words and pulled her closer, scooped her up, and slung her over his shoulder and strode down the causeway to his quarters.

Orihime didn't object, seeing Nnoitra leap off his horse and start down the dock toward the departing ship. Her hands on Renji's back pressed nervously into him, feeling his arm tighten on her waist as his other hand pushed her head down as they descended into the ship.

Nnoitra was eclipsed by the deck as Renji walked, and Orihime found herself holding her breath as they entered the darkened master quarters.

"You'd rather be back in a dungeon cell, woman?" he barked at her. He dropped her on her feet in the dim room.

She stepped back at the venom in his tone. She shook her head. "I didn't know –"

"Stay here."

He turned and was gone, slamming the cabin's door behind him.

For a moment she didn't move, terror and a cold numbness creeping up her spine as she realized her change in circumstances. She felt the ship make a dip into a swell of waters, gaining speed as it left the port, Nnoitra's voice loud in cursing at the dock.

She hugged her arms tight, a weak trembling threatening to make her collapse.

She knew the name _Scarlet Reaper_. She also knew the name Abarai.

She also knew they were pirate.


	5. Chapter Five

Renji watched the Dove dock fade smaller as the _Scarlet Reaper_ made way into the blue seas. The tall figure on the pier was irate, some of Nnoitra's rants and threats carrying out over the warm water, but Renji didn't answer them.

Instead he took the spyglass Izuru handed him and searched the small port's coastline for other boats. None were in sight, save a few small fishing boats lazing near the shoreline further west. He took a moment to search the waters around him.

There were no ships, no other boats. Satisfied, he handed the scope back to Izuru.

"She's a lively one," the blond man said, grinning at the stairway to the lower cabin below the quarterdeck. He shook his head as Renji gave him a frown. "I figured you being gone four days would have eased some of her tensions about being _rescued_."

Renji sighed, looking north for a long moment before glancing to the stairwell. "She was fine until we got to port," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, the expected fright at being taken from the dungeon by someone she doesn't know, but that kind of passed. Until we got here. Soon as she saw the ship she decided she wanted no part of getting out of Hueco Mundo. Not with me."

Izuru looked back at the arid land mass they'd just left. "Maybe she lives there."

Renji chuckled, shaking his head. "Doubt that. She's no desert flower, Izuru. She says she not wealthy, but she's definitely used to the finer treatment. No one has _that_ on Hueco Mundo except Aizen, and he's been taking women from the mainland."

Some of the crew had wandered away from their completed task of rope duty to settle at the ship's port rail, most looking to the quarterdeck and talking amongst themselves.

It reminded Renji that this voyage would be different than his most recent. It was one thing to have a woman aboard with her fiancé, but quite another a lone woman in his quarters. He'd thought about Rukia's needs, but aside from buying the dress in Blue Haven before setting out to find the girl he'd left in the dungeon, he hadn't thought much about bringing her back to the _Scarlet Reaper_.

Bringing Orihime back, he rethought. She did have a name, after all.

"Maybe it is you," Izuru offered.

Renji wanted to shoot down the suggestion, but knew there was validity to it. "My time on Zaraki's deck is past; my name hasn't been connected to any of his raids in months."

Izuru shrugged. "People don't forget, Renji," he said, his tone touched by his own memories. "You made your own name with your own ship."

Renji waved this off. "A few attacks; the most recent were for the Emperor." He stopped himself from mentioning a few details, knowing that it was Shuuhei that had been his first mate at those times, and even then there were other facts he hadn't made known to anyone. "Smuggling doesn't have the same impact as piracy, Izuru."

The other man nodded. "You know how the mainland is. Stories get passed around and distorted. You heard some of them yourself."

Renji laughed. "Exaggerations."

Izuru looked to where two crewmen were bringing up two small wooden barrels from the hold. He saw Renji scowl. "The townsfolk of Dove are mighty scared of Aizen," he said before Renji could speak. "They wouldn't sell us more than six barrels of fresh water and all small, at that. We got what we could, Captain."

"He's got every grain of sand on Hueco Mundo under control," Renji said, looking to the bright afternoon sun overhead amid the canvas sails. "Soon as he gets serious and sends anyone after us, we've got trouble."

"You think he will?"

Renji nodded. "Our new passenger was bringing repeated ransoms. Doubt he'll let her go. Any water left from Seireitei?"

"Half a cask," Izuru said. "Not good for drinking."

Renji stripped off his headrag and untied both braids. "I'm not going to drink it. I'm wearing three days of sand."

"Good enough for that." Izuru watched a larger barrel be struggled up the hatch by three crewmen. "We've got enough ale and wine, though. The townsfolk had no problem parting with those." He swallowed, his last hangover still fresh on his mind as he watched the barrel located to a shady spot of the main sail at the forecastle. "Where do you want to set course for?"

Renji was already ahead of him on that thought. He pulled off his shirt and waved over one of the crewmen heading to the hatch. "I don't know where she belongs yet," he said to Izuru, "and I don't think it's wisest to go straight there, anyway; not if we're likely to be followed. If Aizen sends anyone for our new passenger, they may just head us off at her homeland."

Izuru glanced back to the quarterdeck that rose over the captain's rooms as Renji ordered the crewman to bring up a cask of older water. "We've got to set course for somewhere."

"Head us north," Renji decided, his mind traveling over Orihime's change in fright and what little he'd pieced together of her. "For now."

* * *

Orihime stood shakily in the dark, strange room after Renji left her upon arrival at the _Scarlet Reaper_. She barely breathed, the events of the morning and escape from Nnoitra eclipsing her relief at leaving Las Noches.

For a few moments after he left she remained unmoving, searching the room for any source of light. There was none, but she could make out some angles of furniture and walls, and the cracks of light around a few windows in the ship's walls, but not enough to see well. After a brief moment, a dim light shone from the back of the room from a curtained off doorway and she carefully moved there.

With a glance behind her at the door that Renji had left through, Orihime turned again to the curtain and swept back the muslin that partitioned off another room. She caught her breath at seeing what appeared to be a bedchamber behind the first room.

The only light inside came from a flickering oil lamp attached above a small table bolted to one wall near a closed window. She went there and unplugged the small dowel holding the lamp to the wall. With trembling fingers she turned up the wick.

Lamplight shown brighter into the room and she was surprised it was somewhat orderly and clean. The four-poster bed was centered against the back wall, bedclothes straightened. Besides the small table at the wall were an armoire and a bench, and washstand and folding bamboo screen near the aft corner. She took the lamp and went to the screen, fingers moving over one of the tall panels as her mind spun.

She pushed the first thoughts away, shaking her head.

"He said he'd take me home," she murmured, trying to fortify herself with what she knew of the truth. It was part of this truth that brought a new shaking to her hands, making the lamplight jerk across the wooden plank floor. She took a deep breath and braced herself for further study.

Across from the bed was a fireplace at the wall that was shared by the first room where Renji had left her. Dark seeped in through the lowered grate, and Orihime went there to look through. She crouched, seeing that the fireplace serviced both rooms and while it was large enough to crawl through, the grate was locked. She stood up, looking to the closets built into the walls, and then to the armoire.

She investigated this with the lamp, suspicious that a pirate would have such a closet, and to her surprise found a few dresses on the rack inside. She pulled out the hem of one, frowning at its small size. She opened the second door to reveal a floor length mirror, making her start to see her own reflection there. A very frightened reflection, she noticed.

The uneasy feeling in her stomach jolted into full blown terror. She quickly closed the armoire. A woman's clothes? Some of the fears that had dissolved on the long ride about her rescuer had resurfaced when she'd seen the name _Scarlet Reaper_, and now they threatened to overtake her senses. Renji's words of denying piracy coursed through her mind, but they did not ring true. Again fears about another abductor and ransom arose.

She set the lamp on the table and desperately tried to open the window above the bench by the armoire. It held tight, as did the ones at the table and other wall when she tried them.

The trembling in her stomach made her legs weak. She hadn't been on her feet for any length of time in weeks, and her steps were unsteady, but she didn't sit down. The port side wall also had a closet and washstand and Orihime gave them a closer look. Inside the second wardrobe were more clothes – Renji's clothes – she realized. She closed it and backed away and went to the table to collect the lamp.

She went to the washstand where a brush and two small bottles were slotted in the holes drilled into the dark wood support. Maybe she was only one in a line of captives Renji had taken from Las Noches. Maybe that's what he was really doing there, collecting captives from Aizen's stash to demand his own ransoms. She felt faint, realizing she desperately wanted to believe all the words he'd told her about taking her home. She took a bottle and pulled the cork, smelling the contents. It was oil, mostly lavender and some jasmine, she knew. She replaced it and took the other bottle. This time a headier scent came from the container, and she well knew what it was.

"Recognize those?" Renji asked, stepping into the room, making her yelp.

Orihime nearly dropped the bottle, but managed to recork its top as she turned. She nervously set it back in its slot on the washstand, warily watching him go to the table and set two bottles on it as he turned down the lamp light.

The room was pitch black for a few seconds before he opened the window over the table and let the late day's sun stream in.

Orihime squinted in the light for a moment, still carefully watching him. His hair was down, unbraided and damp, and he wore a black shirt half buttoned at his chest. Beneath it she could see tattoos, but not discern their pattern. It was another point to verify what she knew of his name.

He returned her attention as he opened the other windows, pausing at the one nearest her over the bench a she stepped away to the bamboo screen.

"I plan on returning you, Orihime," he said, leaning slightly to her as she withdrew, "but you have to tell me where you belong."

Before she could answer he took her arm and turned it over, inspecting the length of torn dress she'd wrapped around her wrist under the cuff still attached. He nodded and pulled her towards the bedside.

Again she balked at following him, but he sat on the edge and towed her closer. "Sit down and we'll get that bracelet off."

She reluctantly sat beside him, having little choice as he dug the ring of keys from his pocket and estimated the lock on the cuff. After the first few keys of failure, she let her arm relax more in his grip, eyes going to the black tattoos she could see on his neck beneath his hair.

"Do you know those oils?" he asked, nodding to the washstand without looking up from her arm in his grasp.

"Yes."

"Both?"

"...Yes."

He'd figured as much. The fifth key worked after a bit of finagling, and he unlocked the cuff and tossed the chain near the fireplace. She tried to retract her arm, but he held it tighter, untying the knotted dress she'd used as a bandage. "Use them."

Orihime gave the washstand a quick glance. "Who was here before?"

"I told you I took a friend out of Las Noches before you." He unwrapped the torn material from her wrist, pausing once to give the worn material a better study. It was thin, finely woven, the pattern of mauve and purple still soft after its long wear in the dungeon. He kept her arm in his hand, examining the fabric.

She watched his study. "Did you take her back home?"

He nodded. "To her brother," he said, grinning.

She didn't smile, but her fears dropped a notch.

He rubbed her wrist, his thumb careful over the scrapes the material had protected from the rough cuff's metal edges. "I'll take you back to your brother, too, Orihime."

"How much will you ask him for?"

He turned to see her better. The day's sun was setting lower on the water, shedding in through the window on them, and in it her hair took on a bright auburn. He'd thought her eyes were brown, but at the proximity could see tones of lavender in them in the strong light. He picked up a strand of hair that lay at her shoulder, giving her a look of warning when she tried to flinch from him.

He pulled the soft tress between his fingers, noting the color, recalling where he'd seen it before. "Did Aizen send your brother a lock of your hair?"

Her hand snapped from his hold, her elbow nearly cuffing his jaw as her hand cupped at the side of her head.

"I'm not going to cut your –" Renji stopped speaking as a flash of color at her neck beneath her hair caught his attention. Before she could move away he reached to the side of her neck and drew her closer. Embedded in the soft waves was a strand of beads woven into a thin braid buried at her back.

He pulled it, his other hand locking on her wrist when she tried to draw it away from him.

"Please, Captain," she said, tugging on the thin braid, attempting to stand as made her remain seated, "my brother has paid –"

"He's paid Aizen," he reminded. "Sit still." She did, and he pulled her fingers from the thin braid. It was woven with small amber and garnet beads, the very end tied with a dangle of tiny freshwater pearls.

Her eyes followed his hand up the strand, trying to gauge his mood.

He finally nodded and stood up, taking the bandage of torn dress with him. He went to a wall cupboard and found a ceramic cup, set it on the table and poured it full from one of the bottles. "We're rationing the fresh water. Come over here and drink this."

Orihime stood, her bare feet countering the movement of the ship on the water.

He took the other darker colored glass bottle and pulled the cork, glancing at her. "Come over here." He took a long drink from the bottle, the scorching brandy seeming especially cutting after the last few days of travel. He sat in the chair nearest the fireplace at the table and nodded to the one across him. "Sit down."

She took the few steps to the table, watching him drain the bottle of a quarter of the liquid inside.

"What was in those bottles?" he asked, again indicating the washstand.

She slowly sat in the chair across from him, not looking to the washstand in the corner. "Lavender and jasmine oil."

He nodded. "Which can be found anywhere in Seireitei." He grinned at her discomfort. It was the second bottle that interested him more. It had interested Rukia more, too, but she'd managed to restrain her delight in his ill gotten gains. She had no problem using the luxury aboard his ship, but when he'd returned her to Byakuya with Ichigo she'd declined to take it with her. Renji knew why. Rukia would shy away from bringing black market goods into her brother's house. He let her think it noble. He also let her think her brother was above a little contraband.

He'd smuggled and risked his neck and ship for the expensive perfumed oils and Ichigo would get the benefit of Rukia's three day holiday of bathing herself with them. It wasn't something Renji let himself think about.

"What was the other?" he asked Orihime.

This time she bit her lip slightly at the question. After a moment, she answered: "Ylang ylang oil."

He nodded, grinning at her reluctance. "Not many women know it. Fewer can get it." His gaze dropped to where the collar of the cornflower blue dress cut across her chest. He took a drink from the bottle of brandy, eyes going to the peachy blush that bloomed on her cheeks at his attention. "But you know it, and you can get it, too."

"It's illegal." Her voice was faint as she spoke, and she took the ceramic cup and drank a gulp before realizing it was white wine. She coughed a little, and then took another drink.

"Illegal for some." He leaned back in the chair, watching the light from the window fade, making her hair appear darker. "Not for you."

Her eyes flicked to him. "But the mainland has banned trade of it."

He nodded, chuckling. "It's only called the mainland by those who don't live on it." He grinned wider as her expression shifted to alarm. "Isn't it, Orihime?"

Her fingers tightened around the cup, mind racing to undo her recent misspeak.

"How do you know Byakuya Kuchiki?"

The question made her mouth drop open. She snapped it shut, frowning at the cup. "I know he's a nobleman from Seireitei."

Renji set the bottle on the table, seeing her eyes go to the two-thirds full line of liquid inside it. "What else do you know of him?"

She shook her head, a movement that made her hair resettle across her shoulders. She absently tucked the strand of braid under it. "I've never met him."

It wasn't what Renji had expected her to say. He looked to each of her eyes, trying to read any deceit there, but found none. "It was his sister that I took from Las Noches last week. She's been returned to her brother, Byakuya Kuchiki."

A slight quiver came to her lips, making her voice shake as she spoke. "How, how much did you demand? Captain, my brother isn't wealthy," she said urgently, hands gripping into fists on the table as she sat straighter. "We haven't the kind of money like the Kuchiki's. We can't –"

"Damn it, no," he growled as she winced. "I didn't return her for money, Orihime. She was a friend. No money was involved. Why is that so stuck in your head?"

A wounded expression crossed her face.

"Listen, I know you're not from the mainland," he said when she remained silent. He tapped the worn material he'd taken from her wrist. "You're accustomed to luxuries not permitted in Seireitei."

She shook her head, eyes going to the bandage.

"Is this from the dress you wore when you were taken from your homeland?" he asked pointedly.

She nodded. "I was really there for the time I told you I was, Captain."

"Renji."

She frowned, eyes clouding.

"You call me Renji, all right?"

She nodded. "Renji."

"Much better." He picked up the scrap of dress by two fingers. "This is real silk, Orihime. Not the rolled and polished cotton thread used on the mainland that passes for silk since the Silk Wars. This is the real stuff. It's also contraband, and you were wearing it."

This time her mouth dropped open more slowly, eyes rising to his.

He nodded, grinning. "You don't have to tell me where you're from yet. I'm not taking you home directly."

"But you said —"

"I will take you home," he added, grabbing the bottle again and sitting back in his chair. "But that's probably the first place Aizen will send anyone to look for you."

"Oh." She nodded, fingers tracing the green fern pattern on the ceramic cup. "I see."

For a moment he watched her pout, enjoying the line her coral lips made as she pursed them in thought. He had more questions for her, but decided he'd get better answers in time. And he had time. The thin braid weighted with pearls, amber, and garnet beads hung just over her breast, nearly lost in the auburn hair that was taking on a deeper luster in the day's waning light.

"There are dresses in the armoire, but I don't think they'll fit you," he said, estimating her figure as she glanced to him. "We'll get you more clothes when we dock for fresh water in a few days."

"Thank you, but this is fine," she said. She watched him take a long drink from the bottle, summoning her courage despite the inner resistance.

"Why your sudden fear of sailing with me?" he asked.

"I didn't know we were sailing."

He shook his head. "You had to know we were leaving Hueco Mundo."

She nodded, looking to the bottle.

"Do you want some of this?" He shook the bottle's contents.

"No, thank you."

"Is it the ship?" This Renji really wanted to know. "What have you heard?"

Orihime took a drink of the wine, wishing it would embolden her enough to voice her own questions. "You're a pirate."

"Was. I gave it up." He hoped honesty was contagious. "Gave it up, Orihime."

"But you have ...things. You have merchandise that's illegal." She glanced at the washstand and back to him.

"That depends on where you are, doesn't it?"

She nodded, wishing she could smile at his grin.

"Is that what troubles you? Piracy?"

"Shouldn't it?"

He nodded. "Yes, I guess."

She finished her wine, and to her chagrin he refilled her cup with more from the bottle.

"If you're not a pirate anymore," she said slowly, "Renji, then why did you sink the _Yellow Lily_?"

The bottle of brandy stopped halfway to his lips, brow furrowing at her. "What do you know about the _Lily_?"

She looked sheepishly to the open shirt at his chest for a moment before her gaze flicked to his face. "You sank it."

He nodded. "Emperor Yamamoto commissioned me to sink it. That wasn't piracy."

She thought about this for a moment, watching him twist the torn bandage in his hand. "Is that the only reason?"

"What do you know about the _Lily_?"

"Just that ... that it was a merchant ship."

Renji knew far more than that about the _Yellow Lily_. He knew the _Lily_ was to meet the _Southern Pearl_ with contraband bound for Seireitei. It was in waters he knew well, having used the route for smuggling, mostly with half fermented woad as a cover cargo to mask any scent of perfume or aphrodisiac. In an attempt to outlive some of his smuggling charges he'd accepted the Emperor's invitation to privateer.

What he hadn't known was that the _Yellow Lily_ was to meet a ship he should have passed on, a ship he was also commissioned to attack. The _Southern Pearl_ hadn't looked like a Kuchiki ship; he wouldn't have known it when he lifted the cargo either, if it hadn't been for the telltale tattoo on the captain's arm. It should have brought a hearty laugh, the irony of Byakuya Kuchiki resorting to smuggling to trade goods he couldn't outright buy from a location he couldn't control in some manner.

But Renji hadn't found it humorous, and he'd passed on other such invitations from the Emperor. He'd wondered since then if his former employer had known he knew who owned the _Southern Pearl_. Renji had never mentioned it to anyone, even Shuuhei, who'd been his first mate on the attack. The event soured on Renji's stomach for more reasons than one, and he'd left those waters for northern ports.

"That's all you know about it?" he asked Orihime, still watching her debate something within herself. "Why your interest in the _Lily_?"

She took another drink of the wine, the misery of unasked questions plaguing her as he watched her slightest movement. "Do you know where it was from?"

Her façade of indifference amused him. It only added to the background he was building about her, reinforcing what he thought he knew. "I was commissioned to attack two ships," he said, purposely leaving out a few details. "I was never told either ship's country of origin. Just the waters they were to be in and their names."

She didn't say it, but he could see it in her face, or something close to it. A few times she opened her mouth to voice a query, but then thought better of it, leaving it silent.

"You understand I'm not a pirate, don't you?"

This time she looked him square in the eye, nodding slightly as she argued something with herself. "Not anymore."

"And not when I attacked the _Yellow Lily_."

This time the brooding look in her eyes softened a little. "It was your Emperor's orders."

He nodded. He glanced to the window as the breeze out it turned cooler as evening fell over the waters. "I've got a course to set on deck." He pushed the scrap of dress toward her on the table, letting one finger tap the back of her hand. "I'll take you home, Orihime. I promise."

There were sounds from the causeway and he stood up and stretched, the days of desert travel making him miss the sea. He grabbed the bottle of brandy. "I'll have your supper sent in. Izuru is acting first mate. Get some sleep."

She stood as he walked to the door. "I sleep here?" Before she could stop herself, her eyes darted to the bed, some of her fears resurfacing.

"Yes, here. In the bed," he added, grinning at the squeak claiming her voice. "Alone. You sleep in the bed alone, Orihime."

He left into first room, pulling the curtain wide as he did, leaving her to her thoughts in the bedchamber. She heard the door in the front room open and an exchange of men's voices, and then someone called out.

"Hello?"

Orihime stepped away from the table as Izuru appeared in the doorway. He held up a tray with a covered plate on it.

"Hi. I'm Izuru," he said, entering the room as she backed to the armoire. He smiled and set the tray on the table, giving her a quick once over. "Welcome to the ...ship. Guess you're with us for a while. Renji will be back later. I've no brains for navigating."

Orihime made a slight nod. "Thank you."

He nodded back. "Okay. Okay then."

She watched him leave, then glanced to the table. The aroma of fish stew and rice cakes was welcome, reminding her she hadn't eaten much that day, busy as she and Renji had been outrunning Nnoitra and finding Dove.

Her mind was a whir of thoughts of their conversation, too much new knowledge to digest and her thoughts muddled from the wine on an empty stomach. She went to the window open over the bench and looked out.

The sea was shifting with dark blue water under the sky blinking with early stars in the dusk. She leaned to the sill, breathing in the damp air that promised rain.

She sighed, sagging at the ship's wooden side, wishing it would rain. She hadn't seen rain in nearly two months and she missed it.

Renji said he wasn't pirate.

As much as she wanted to believe it, Orihime couldn't explain some of what he'd told her. Perhaps he'd returned the Kuchiki girl in favor to a friend. Or perhaps as a ransom.

She glanced back to the washstand, eyes resting on the bottle of expensive oil, and then looked to the table.

Maybe she could tell him.


	6. Chapter Six

Orihime couldn't remember the last time she'd slept in a bed. After the initial shock of her rescue and discovery of her rescuer's identity, sleep came upon her that night like a gale.

She awoke late the next morning, buried up to her nose in sheets, real sheets – not makeshift straw that needed changing – and pillows. At first she let her eyes remain closed, smiling as she burrowed into the pillow, pulling the sheet over her higher, every inch of her body deep in the mattress.

And then the ship shifted on the waters and she recalled she wasn't home in her own bed. Her eyes flung open, trying to take in the bright room of the captain's quarters in a single glance. She was alone in the bed, the blinds at the windows letting the day's light peek through the reed slats. She sunk into the mattress, sighing.

The room was the width of the ship, partitioned off from the first room. The windows were closed with lowered blinds and she could see shutters locked open to each side. Her fingers closed tighter around the sheet, parts of what Renji had told her about not being a pirate replaying through her mind.

"Not a pirate, but he sunk the _Yellow Lilly_," she murmured to herself, trying to believe it.

Footfalls from the first room made her look to the doorway where muslin curtain was pulled. She sat up, inching the sheets higher at her chest.

Renji pushed aside the curtain enough to see her, grinning at her wide-eyed face above the mound of sheets. "You're awake. Hungry?"

Despite her rather large supper, she was. She nodded.

He swept open the curtain. "Come on. You can eat up on deck."

A few moments later she followed him up to the sunny main deck. Her hasty combing of her fingers through her hair was immediately retangled as the breeze shifting across the waters caught her. Renji pulled a wooden crate to the side of the quarterdeck stair for her.

He crouched beside her as she sat, noting her slight recoil. "I made something of a hasty departure from Merristone," he said, watching her try to tame her hair from her face as a gust of wind tossed it. "This isn't my usual crew, so keep yourself close, and don't speak to anyone except Izuru."

She nodded. "Okay."

He looked down as she pulled her feet closer to the crate. "We'll get you other clothes soon, but until then you're free to plunder my closet for anything you can fit into." He chuckled at the surprise and blush crossing her face. "You're not going to fit into any of those tiny dresses Rukia used. That I know." He stood as Izuru met them with a bowl and small jug, which he gave to Orihime.

"Oh, thank you," she said, smiling into the bowl.

"'Morning," Izuru said before turning to Renji. "Got a small dot on the horizon, Captain."

Renji turned to look in the direction Izuru pointed. "Would you drop the captain stuff?"

Izuru shrugged. Across the wide blues water a black point was visible on the horizon. Renji watched it without a spyglass. It was barely visible, appearing to heading up behind them.

He nodded. "It's not following a typical trade route," he decided, searching the rest of the horizon for any other sign of ships. There were none. He glanced to the center of the deck where a few of his newer crewmen had wandered for a better view of Orihime on the crate. His attention flicked to her.

She had no qualms about eating. She'd dug through the bowl of salted scallops, dried figs, and one of the few small melons they'd gotten from Dove. He watched her lick off a few fingers, oblivious to the crew enjoying the rare sight.

Renji rethought her presence on deck. "About your duties!" he called to the men finding excuses to close the distance between them and Orihime. He looked to Izuru. "See if there is anything left of the cargo we lifted from the _Lilly_."

Izuru nodded, looking from him to Orihime. "Most of it we took north last trip."

"Check the lowest hold. There should be a couple reserve chests." Renji headed for the largest of his too-curious crewman. "Bring anything up."

"Aye, Renji."

Orihime was unaware of the leering attention on her. She hadn't had more than bland bread and a gruel type of mush occasionally during her stay in the prison and the variety of tastes in the bowl was welcome. She picked out a small button of scallop, knowing it was fish, but unsure what type by its salt-shriveled appearance.

Loud voices from the center of the deck made her look there, hugging her bowl closer on her lap. Renji stood facing an exceptionally large man who wore nothing but breeches and a cross baldric of knives at his chest, an angry look on his face as his captain threatened him. The voices lowered, the two smaller men with the largest sending her appreciative stares.

It wasn't the kind of appreciation a woman wanted, Orihime knew; too much like the kind Nnoitra had shown her, and she unconsciously pulled her skirt farther over her legs. Renji said something she didn't quite hear, moving so his body blocked the men's view of her. Her eyes dropped from them, her attention on the bowl's contents.

A moment later another shadow covered her and she looked up to see Renji. He took her elbow and lifted her to her feet. "Come on," he said, angling her to the quarterdeck stair that rose over the cabins below. "You'll have more privacy up here."

She followed his direction up the stairs, glancing over her shoulder to see what she was being taken away from, but he was too close behind her. He maneuvered her to the rail side that overlooked the deck and pulled a crate near it.

"Sit there. They can look at your back," he said, grinning as she sat down slowly. "That'll be enough for some of them, but you won't have to look at them."

She didn't look behind her, instead watching as he pulled another wooden crate to the port side and sat on it. He looked past her to the main deck, his face unreadable to what he saw.

The quarterdeck was shaded by the sails overhead and lined with a few other crates, some long, and he unfastened one of these lids and took out a falchion. It was a standard sword, with no ornamentation, its blade covered in wax to protect it from the sea water.

He tapped its blade against the crate to crack the wax, watching Orihime's fingers collect a piece of fish with her melon. To his surprise, she popped them both into her mouth, munching contentedly. He chuckled. "Not much variety in prison fare?"

She shook her head, wiping away an auburn strand of hair that the wind flung in her face. "Thank you again, Captain. Renji," she added, smiling a bit. "Thank you for getting me out of there."

He nodded, turning the falchion in his hand, the other hand's thumb feeling the dull edge. He peeled back more of the wax. "Decided where you want to go yet?"

"Home." The word came out automatically, and she stopped chewing, eyes widening on his amused look. "But ... but not –"

"You don't want to tell me where that is yet." He sighed, moving his two braids from his shoulder as the wind caught them. "That's fine. We've got time." He looked to where the small dot of a ship was still on the water line meeting the bright blue sky. "Maybe more time than we thought."

Orihime turned to look at the spot he watched. "Who are they?"

He shook his head, watching the angle of her silhouette as her body turned. "Don't know yet. Could be anyone. Don't worry about them."

She turned and looked to the bowl before her, eyes on the sword across his knees.

"You won't attack them?"

She didn't think it was a fair question, not if she believed him when he said he wasn't a pirate, but she'd concluded that there may be shades of illegality on the seas she wasn't fully aware of.

He shook his head, brushing off the flakes of wax that were beginning to stick in the hot sun. "Not unless provoked."

She nodded, reaching for the last slice of melon. She looked to him. "Do you want some?"

Renji glanced at the fruit. "Go ahead. The few melons we have will go bad in a couple of days." He leaned back against the rail behind him, watching her take a large bite of the mild green melon. "We won't be docking until the weather is cooler. I'm not following any trade routes, so there're fewer places to stop. I'm serious about you finding other clothes to wear." He estimated her height, eyes lingering on the curves of her legs as she tucked them under her skirt more. "I think I have a few shirts that'll be long enough for something to sleep in."

An extra layer of pink heated her cheeks beneath the tan she already had from their desert journey. "This is fine."

He leaned his elbows on his knees, reaching his hand for the hem of her skirt before she could move away. "It's ten days to the nearest port I'll dock at, Orihime," he said in a lower tone, grinning at her brighter pink on her cheeks. "You've got to come out of that frock sometime."

She nodded slowly, watching his fingers pull to the edge of the dress hem and let it drop. She didn't move away. "Thank you. Renji."

He sat back and returned to working on the sword. "You live with your brother? That's it?" He studied her for a moment, debating how far to push his less invasive questioning. "No betrothal in the near future?"

She shook her head. "My brother hadn't arranged one yet. There aren't many ..." she caught herself before speaking what she'd been dodging, and then said, "prospects."

"Why not?"

"We, we have a small community," she said after a pause.

He chuckled, wiping down the blade of wax flecks. "You know, Hueco Mundo is made up of criminals. A dumping ground for felons and a sanctuary for criminals."

Orihime nodded wholeheartedly, believing it.

"The same happened on Weaver's Isle," he said, watching her closely.

She shook her head. "Weaver's Isle is not made up of criminals, Captain," she said crisply. "They have a very kind population. There is no army to speak of, and there hasn't been a war in decades."

He grinned at her defense. "I didn't mean the criminal part, Orihime. I meant it's populated with outcasts from other countries. People seeking refuge."

For a moment she only stared back at him, her words catching in her next breath.

"During the Silk Wars a large community of silk worm farmers and a few others migrated to the Isle." He rummaged through the crate for a soft cloth and a small tin of polishing grit. "The Emperor had had enough of the rivalry between silk farmers and spinners and weavers. It got bloody, prices were outrageous, and a few strings got pulled. The silk farmers packed their worms and left for Weaver Isle. The silk industry dried up on the mainland. The technology was gone." He saw her nod subtly. "Have you heard that story?"

She snapped her mouth shut, knowing the details of the Silk Wars more acutely than he did. She nodded. "Yes."

Renji rubbed a bit of grit onto the blade and worked it in with the cloth, removing the excess coating of wax. "The Quincy tribe was banned from the mainland for aiding the silk farmers against the Emperor during the War. What few there were left, took refuge on the Isle." He watched her eyes follow the cloth along the falchion blade. "But you don't weave?"

A brief wave of guilt passed over Orihime. He was so close to the truth she figured he knew; not her personal truth, she decided, but close enough. She sighed, fingers tightening on the bowl in her lap. "No. My family used to weave, but, but they lost business to other clients." She tried to honey coat the words she didn't want to use. "My family turned to other means for support. My brother didn't agree with some of ... the changes, and he took me away when he left home." She mentally drew a line, a thick line she didn't want to cross through her memories. "But we don't weave."

Renji took a long moment to polish the sword metal, restless to hear what he thought she would say, proving him right, but also wanting to know if he was wrong. He watched the simmer of hesitancy in her face, her eyes clouding from hazel to a more violet hue in the noon's heat and sunlight.

He didn't push. Trust was something he'd learned took time and patience, neither of which he seemed to have the right amounts of at the same time. He nodded, running the cloth down the wax-free blade. "But you know people who weave?"

"Yes."

He looked to the deck behind her as Izuru appeared there carrying a leather strapped chest.

"One left, Renji," the blond man called up to him.

"Good. Leave it there and I'll get it." Renji looked back to Orihime. "And you know Quincys, too?"

For a moment she didn't speak, returning his stare for silence. "There aren't many left," she said softly, searching his face. "They're a very noble tribe."

He nodded. He placed the sword back in the crate and stood up. He offered her his hand. "You can go back below. My crew's had enough distraction for now. You can come back up this evening when it's cooler on deck."

Orihime stood and looked to the main deck before thinking.

At the main derrick the three crewmen and a few more from earlier had gathered, watching as she stepped closer to Renji.

He took her hand as she lifted it, her attention still on the men. "I have one chest left from a previous haul," he said, avoiding the source of the chest Izuru held. "Maybe you can find something to interest you in it."

* * *

There was much to interest Orihime in the chest, and over the course of the next week she investigated every item in it. The days fell into a schedule during that time. She learned that the _Scarlet Reaper_ was usually farther north, as Renji preferred the cooler seas to the heat of some of his arrest warrants still haunting him in a few ports. Not every dock master and governor had gotten news of the Emperor's leniency to the red-haired captain. Not yet.

She knew Renji slept in the desk chair in the first room of the captain's cabin at night, something that made her feel guilty for stealing his bed, but he seemed willing to give it up.

She also knew the ship was under a sparse crew that Renji's hasty departure from Merristone made necessary as the port shut down to traffic. Every port along the coast was preparing for any problem with Aizen Sousuke, and every sister, daughter and wife was closely watched.

It made her nervous about the ship that had tailed the _Scarlet Reaper_ for the past week. She stood at the bedroom window, looking out across the evening waters that shimmered with pale moonlight as stars played overhead. At the watery horizon she saw it, the ship that never gained nor lagged, always within sight, never veering from their course.

She didn't like it. She knew Renji didn't either.

Thoughts of Renji sent a flush through her, and she tried to pass it off as the heat of the day still in the bedchamber. She knew it wasn't. In her week on the ship she'd grown more at ease, realizing he wasn't going to demand answers about her homeland. She could see he wanted to know, but their conversations didn't stagnate on the topic.

She'd also noticed something else, something she couldn't quite place her finger on, but something familiar. Not about him, not about Renji, she thought, her gaze anchored on the tiny shape she knew to be a ship on the horizon. Something else.

It wasn't the stories about Captain Abarai or the _Scarlet Reaper_ that were familiar. She knew some of the stories, but there was something else. Something that hadn't kept her from sleep the first night on the Hueco Mundo desert with him.

She sighed and sat at the bench at the window, leaning on the sill, appreciating the cooler evening breeze that found its way through the bright red gauze dress she'd put together in the last few days.

The chest Renji let her have access to was filled with possibilities, and most of the items she recognized. At first she was upset that he'd kept a souvenir from the _Yellow Lilly_. She knew the rolls of blue and red gauze fabric, knew the lavender and green silks, knew the fragrant oils.

She looked down at the small jar in her hand. It was Renji's favorite, she knew, and the one she'd secretly begun to prefer wearing.

It hadn't been on the _Yellow Lilly_.

Orihime knew that.

In fact, the last time it and the gauze material were shipped from her brother's stock was the last time she'd watched the unknown ship at the dock from her homeland island. She wasn't supposed to be there. Sora had told her the dangers.

"I'm sorry, Sora," she murmured, looking to the jar.

For two months there had been a surge in shipping from Weaver Isle. Trade was illegal to the mainland of Seireitei, and the few smugglers who chanced the voyage were scarce. But one ship had made regular trips for two months, braving the bounty hunters sent out by the Emperor, and kept a steady flow of goods from the Isle to the mainland.

And then it had disappeared.

Orihime frowned. The ship stopped coming around. There was no warning, no reason.

She knew little about the ship. No one knew anything. Even Sora. It had appeared without flag or banner, its escutcheon covered by a black canvas. No names were given, and none were asked. Good prices were paid for the illicit cargo to be sold on the mainland, and the merchants on Weaver's Isle were only too happy for the market.

Orihime knew it came at night, was loaded at one of the three docks her brother allowed, and then left before morning sunrise. She wasn't supposed to know even that much about it. Sora had forbidden her.

She smoothed the softly-dyed red gauze over her knees. It was a light material, dyed by cochineal, the only source of which was the hot, dry southern part of Weaver's Isle. It was highly prized, and brought rich prices from anywhere merchants dared sell it. While she did not weave, she could sew, and within the week had made herself two more dresses to add to the blue one Renji had supplied her.

Sora had warned her of the dangers, but Orihime hadn't listened. After the first week of hearing about the stories of the unnamed ship that slipped into the port to quietly load and whisk away again by morning, she'd snuck to the hillside overlooking the harbor. Sure enough, after several nights of watching, she'd seen the ship approach, dock and tie-off, and then be loaded. She could see little at her distance; no name, the ship's sails furled, its color lost to the dark of night. There was nothing to distinguish its crew or captain.

Some of the smile dropped from her face as she thought more about Renji. She'd come to two possibilities.

What she'd seen in the chest with the gauze material and exotic perfumes, what she'd heard of the _Yellow Lilly_ and Captain Abarai and his ship – she'd concluded Renji had either commandeered the unknown smuggler and his ship, or was the smuggler.

She sighed, wishing she'd had a better glimpse of the captain or had seen the ship's hidden name. If it was Renji, why had he suddenly stopped trade? Why had he turned his back on the Isle?

It had been during one of those fruitless, secretive outings at night to watch the docks that she'd been captured by Ulquiorra Schiffer.

Orihime didn't like to think about that part. Sora had told her to stop, and she agreed to, but she hadn't.

She'd paid for it, too. Weeks in a prison cell.

And Sora had paid, too.

She looked to the doorway as Renji entered the bedchamber. For a moment she estimated him, comparing him to the man she'd seen moving on the dark dock those few nights as the unknown ship was loaded months ago. She hadn't had a very good view then.

He didn't look like the man, she decided, or any of the men belonging to the unknown ship.

Renji spotted her at the bench. He looked to the oil lamp that was unlit at the table. "You're sitting in the dark?"

She nodded, studying him carefully, wishing she'd had a better glimpse of the smuggler at the docks before it had disappeared. "Have you had the _Scarlet Reaper_ long?"

He lit the lamp and looked to her. "Questioning my sailing ability, Orihime?"

She thought he was serious until be chuckled, joining her at the bench as lamplight from the table edged into the room. "Oh, no. I think it's fine. Oh, I didn't mean anything like that, Renji."

He leaned against the armoire beside the bench watching her straighten the skirt over her knees. "You've made good use of your time and the contents of the chest." He sniffed the air, grinning at the trace of heliotrope and ylang ylang she wore. "Very nice."

She smiled, this time glad he couldn't see her blush. She still wanted an answer. "You're a smuggler, not a pirate?"

He nodded, crossing his arms, trying to read what was in her face beside the slight smile she was reluctant to show. "Are you after a reward? The Emperor has lifted most of my warrants. I'm not worth very much at the moment."

"Oh, no." She sat straighter on the bench, searching out the tattoos she could see at his forehead. There'd been no mention of any markings on the smugglers that aided the Isle, but she'd heard little about them from Sora. "Have you ... have you smuggled recently?"

He shook his head as he sat beside her. She pulled her skirt closer, content to remain. She set the jar on the floor.

"You've got some interesting questions tonight," he said, resting one arm at the window sill near her shoulder. He looked out at the dark water to where he knew the ship following had been loitering. His eyes went to her arm, the gauze material a simple, sleeveless dress design she'd put together quickly, surprising him.

And pleasing the crew, he also knew.

"What do you really want to know, Orihime?" he asked, watching her fingers tense at her knee on the red material.

"You said the chest came from the _Yellow Lilly_." She held her breath, hoping his reaction wouldn't be hostile.

He shook his head. "It did." He looked to each of her eyes. "You don't think so?"

She nodded, swallowing as she tried to think how best to phrase her next query. "Everything in it was from the _Yellow Lilly_?"

He grinned, nodding. "No. Not everything. Some items were put in there from other trips." He liked that the abrasions and bruising had disappeared, that she hadn't moved from his proximity.

Her gaze dropped to her hand at her knee. She pulled at the slack red material. "Like this?"

He wished she'd ask, outright _ask_ whatever was going through that thick auburn head of hers. He nodded, watching the braid of amber and garnet at her collarbone dangle over her collar. "Like that."

He heard a rumble of footsteps from the deck above, cursing lowly as he knew it would result in an argument among the crew. There'd been more of them lately.

Orihime heard it, too. She nodded, her questions falling away.

Renji felt he could almost see them slip from her. "You can ask anything you want. I've told you the truth."

She nodded, not quite ready to be as candid. "Maybe, maybe later?"

For some reason that _maybe_ sounded more promising than he thought it should. "Sure." He stood up as a few shouts and curses rang through the air from the deck. "I'm going to see what the commotion is about." He stood up, watching her turn her head, making the moonlight highlight copper on the window side. "Unless you've got another question."

Her fingers crumpled the gauze at her leg. "How long have you had the _Scarlet Reaper_?"

A grin escaped him. "Eight months. Does that help any?"

She smiled, nodding. "Yes. I think it does, Renji."

"Good."

He left then, and she wished she'd had the nerve to ask a few more questions, but to do that would give away what she wasn't yet ready to.

And also, she thought, looking back out the window at the mirrored moonlight on the water, she may not get the answer she wanted. She wasn't sure where that would leave her.

* * *

**A/N:** _Thanks for reading and reviewing!_


	7. Chapter Seven

Three days later the ship trailing the _Scarlet Reaper_ made its move. The morning had broken foggy and warm, and after the bright sun burnt off the haze, a sweltering day of heavy heat lay on the ship and crew.

Orihime was wilted by early afternoon. Her cobalt-indigo gauze dress was light, but seemed too heavy in the little breeze that fanned across the ship's quarterdeck stair. She sat in the shade of a lagging sail from the center mast, her hair pulled from her shoulder, tucking the few thin braids she'd made at each side over her back. She'd considered tying it up, but she didn't want to chance expose the beads of the small braid behind her ear.

She knew she should take them out, let the crimped hair relax.

But Sora had given them to her, and she did not want to risk losing them. She sighed, brushing her fingers through the tangled auburn strands. Maybe she would soon.

Across the main deck Renji was standing with Izuru, both watching through spyglasses the enlarging ship following them. The rest of the crew had grown a little more wary, some ready for an altercation, some for flight.

Orihime frowned as she glanced to the large man wearing the double baldric of knives. His name was Broc, she'd learned, and some of his conversation with other men had drifted to her.

"Then let the woman drink wine," had been uttered more than once.

She knew freshwater was rationed, and she knew she was an added cargo that some of the crew did not want. At least, not when it came to the drinking water supplies. A few words from Renji had shut the man up.

She looked up and sat straighter as Renji approached, and then stood as he met her. She followed his gaze to where he was scowling at the ship in the distance.

"They've run up the hail banner," he told her. "Not distress, just a hail." He grinned at her braided hair, watching her fingers catch the ends of one plait. "Come inside. The water's cooler."

"I don't need any," she said as he put a hand to her back and ushered her to the hatch stair and through the darker companionway. "I'm not thirsty."

"Don't let the talk of idiots convince you of that," he said. He pushed open the door to the master cabin. "We have plenty of freshwater. Broc and his friends are off my ship the next time we dock. I'd rather run lean on crew than with idiots."

The front room of the master cabin was cooler than the deck, even with little breeze drifting in with the late day. Renji went to the cupboard where he kept the jug of drinking water reserved for Orihime. He shook it, nodding.

"We'll have to stop off at the Coral Islands before we make the mainland." He set the jug on the desk and watched her detangle the ends of her hair. He opened the desk drawer and took a wooden comb from it. "We can do better than that."

He stepped to where she stood and held out the comb. "Do a proper brushing so I can see your face better."

Orihime took the comb, blushing, not quite hiding her smile. It was newly carved of sandalwood, the tines a bit uneven, but rubbed soft of any splintered edges. She turned it over, smiling more as she slowly looked to him. "You made this? It's ... it's so nice, Renji."

"It's not that nice," he said, his hand pushing her hair back over her shoulder. His finger caught the strand of pearls and precious stone beads at her collar. This time she didn't pull it away from him, her smile turning more timid.

Her fingers went to her temple as he inspected the small beads in the thin, auburn braid.

"Thank you," she said, holding the comb closer. "I like it."

Renji was about to speak again when there was a rumble of footsteps above from the deck and Izuru's voice called down from the open doorway.

"Ship hailing, Captain!"

Renji's hand paused at Orihime's hair, moving to her chin as thoughts he didn't have time to complete coursed through his mind. "Stay here," he told her. "Keep quiet."

She nodded.

He called up to Izuru, and then took Orihime into the bedroom and slid the shutters closed to within an inch on the portside. Her brief glimpse out the last shutter before Renji closed it showed the other ship nearby, not quite within boarding distance, but close.

Renji left then, locking the first room's door to the companionway as he pulled a baldric holding a second shorter sword at his hip opposite his main sword.

Orihime stood alone in the bedroom, the sounds of men moving and the water between the ships making the waves shorter, choppier as the new vessel neared. The room grew too warm quickly with half the windows closed most of the way. As the voices overhead called mutedly, Orihime went to the port windows to peek through the crack of shutter Renji had left open.

The second ship was a little larger than the _Scarlet Reaper_, with four rather than three sails to its main posts. Its rail was lined with sailors who appeared, to Orihime, more pirate than seamen, all with their hands on the starboard rail, smiling as they looked to the _Scarlet Reaper's_ deck.

She hung back from the window, her eyes moving over the smiling men. She found it odd, their grinning. Most were shabbily dressed in pants and loose shirts, all armed, but no one was pulling a weapon. She peeked more through the opening. At the ship's starboard rail center was its captain.

He was a modest appearing man, his mannerisms quiet as he spoke to Renji.

Orihime looked back to the second ship's quarterdeck stair as another figure moved where he sat on a step near a line of barrels. He was tall, even while sitting, a ragged cloth tied over his black hair that didn't quite camouflage the patch crossing his bad eye or the wicked grin she knew too well. He bided his time, one hand on the pole at his side topped with a hook and scythe, the other resting on his holstered cutlass. He was more visible at the angle she could see him behind the row of men at the rail than he would be from Renji's location on the _Scarlet Reaper's_ deck. She leaned back from the window, recognizing the thinly disguised man.

She bolted to the first room of the cabin and pulled at the door to the companionway. It was locked, and she frantically twisted the latch, to no avail.

On the main deck Renji had exchanged formalities with the man who introduced himself as Captain Tesla of the _Five Flags_. Renji's attention moved over the new ship's masts. He saw no flags, only the lone hail banner. His cautions raised a notch as Tesla smiled and continued.

"So we're on our last half barrel of freshwater," he called across the water. "We'd be much obliged if you could spare any amount."

Renji shook his head. "We're low on supplies ourselves. We can't help you there."

Izuru stood at Renji's side, his voice just above a whisper. "I saw that ship at Dove, Renji. She'd just left the dock when we got there."

Renji nodded slightly, his eyes moving over the _Five Flag's _deck. "You said Dove wasn't offering anyone more than a few barrels."

Izuru nodded.

Renji put one hand to the _Scarlet Reaper's_ port rail where his crew was lined, waiting any command. "We cannot spare any. We have extra barrels of wine, but not freshwater."

Tesla seemed at a loss for a moment. Behind him the tall figure shifted on the quarterdeck stair.

Renji shook his head. "Closest port is south."

Behind Tesla the figure at the steps stood up to his full height, drawing Renji's attention there. He recognized the tall, thin figure immediately.

"Then you can give us the girl!" Nnoitra called as he went to the rail and wrapped his free hand around a loose mast rope. "Surrender her now, _Reaper_!"

Renji stepped back and drew his sword in a flash as the tall man leaped from the second ship's rail and swung by the rope onto the deck of the _Scarlet Reaper_.

"Full arms!" Renji ordered.

With Nnoitra's shout the other crewmen followed his example, flooding the _Scarlet_ _Reaper's_ deck with dozens of armed invaders. The crew of the _Scarlet Reaper_ retaliated in kind to the assault on its home deck.

Renji knew they were outnumbered nearly two-to-one – odds Zaraki might like – but not a challenge he invited with Orihime onboard. His crew rallied with an answering cry and braced for the onslaught of sword blades and battle axes that swung through the air.

With a deft, practiced throw Nnoitra whirled the double-bladed shaft at Renji, the scythe side slicing into his side a few seconds before his blade met Nnoitra's cutlass in a sharp clang. The sheering impact took the wind out Renji, but he gritted his teeth, sending a backhanded sword slash across the taller man's chest that Nnoitra didn't quite clear.

"Give her up!" Nnoitra bellowed, ending with a guttural choke as the blade found its mark in his ribcage.

"Go to hell!" Renji drove the sword tip into his bony shoulder.

This brought a howl from Nnoitra and an incensed strike of blade on blade as he fought Renji back to the opposite rail. Around them the ship deck was filled with cries and the clash of swords, the valiant efforts of the _Scarlet Reaper_ matching the uneven manpower of the aggressing ship.

Renji blocked the broad swipe Nnoitra's blade made at him, shoving him back only to engage another volley of quick slashes.

"You can give her up and take your ship on away, red," Nnoitra taunted with a forceful strike that Renji caught and returned. "You can't keep me away. Not on land or sea!"

Renji followed through with a mid-torso slash that opened Nnoitra's left ribs, bringing a string of curses form him. He was about to deliver another blow when the tall man stepped into the movement, pulling a shorter blade from his belt and jamming it into Renji's abdomen.

Renji stopped abruptly, a sudden cough making him feel the edge of the blade below his last rib.

Nnoitra laughed and turned his back. "Vulture bait."

Renji braced one hand to the rail at his side, his vision suddenly weakening, aware of the individual battles around the deck more acutely. He saw Nnoitra head for the companionway hatch to the captain's cabin below.

He looked down at the long knife hilt protruding from below his ribs, clenching his teeth against the pain echoing through him. He grabbed the hilt and ripped the blade out, and then wrapped his bloodied hand around the tackle and grappling hook draped on a cleat at the rail. He pulled it free, dropping the coil of rope, and with an excruciatingly painful movement, drew back and threw the hook end at Nnoitra.

The hook snaked out and wrapped around the tall man's neck and spun around, jerking him to a stop and flinging him to his back on the deck with a loud thud.

As soon as Renji reached him, Nnoitra had rolled to his hands and knees, pawing at the rope around his neck. Renji pushed him to the deck and drew the blade of the knife he'd pulled from his stomach under Nnoitra's throat in a quick slash.

Nnoitra didn't get through the curse he started.

Renji coughed harder, settling to one knee as he grabbed the back of Nnoitra's shirt and got to his feet. "Damn, you're an ox," he grumbled, spitting a mouthful of blood to the side as he tried to move him.

Nnoitra was still on his knees, glowering at Renji, one hand on his throat, the other reaching for the hatch rail as he tried to stand.

Suddenly Izuru was at Renji's side, helping him lift Nnoitra.

"Over the side," Renji managed to say, steadying on both feet.

Izuru grabbed the back of Nnoitra's shirt with Renji and together they pushed Nnoitra to the rail and hoisted him over. A large splash followed him into the water between the ships and a moment later he surfaced, floating to the rear of both vessels.

"No!"

Renji and Izuru both looked to where Tesla was leaning at the port rail further down ship, franticly watching Nnoitra reach a hand from the water.

Tesla lowered his sword, looking hastily to the _Scarlet Reaper's_ deck. "_Five Flags_, retreat!" he cried out, waving the sword over his head for anyone's attention. "Retreat, men! Back to the ship!"

Within seconds the crew from the invading ship had abandoned their fights and were swinging back over to the _Five Flags_. Renji didn't try to stop them.

Tesla immediately went to the aft starboard rail of the _Five Flags_ where Nnoitra's slowly struggling form was drifting.

Renji and Izuru turned to look at the crew at the _Scarlet Reaper's_ main deck. All were injured to some degree, some fatally. Renji pushed a hand below his ribs, feeling the stickiness pulling at his wet shirt.

"Get us out of here," he called to the helmsman at the quarterdeck. "Same course! Now!"

Izuru wiped a sleeve across his face. Most of his injuries were in the form of fresh bruises and scrapes. He looked to Renji's reddened shirt, shaking his head.

"You're injured bad, Renji," he said, whisking off his tan shirt and offering it. "You need to go below. I'll oversee us getting out of here."

Renji took the shirt, eyes still on the second ship now drifting away from them. Half the crew was at the back of the ship, ropes in the water, trying to catch Nnoitra.

Renji shook his head, tying the tan shirt around his waist, covering the still bleeding injury at his ribs.

"They're not getting away that easily, Izuru." He nodded to the helm. "Tell him to set sail for Middle Rock, quietly. I don't want this bastard following us." He tied off the shirt again, grunting at the new pain the movement brought.

Izuru nodded, watching Renji grab the thick rope to another grappling hook.

Renji estimated the distance the _Five Flags_ had dropped back behind the _Scarlet Reaper_ as the ship gained in speed. "I want at least four lines on her," he said, eyes narrowing on the opposing ship. "Center masts."

"Aye, Captain."

Izuru left to carry Renji's orders to the helmsman and a few other crewmen he knew to be loyal. Renji spat over the side of the rail, measuring the rope in his hands as the _Five Flags_ dropped farther away. He walked along the portside, twirling the hook at the end of rope to gain momentum. At the back of the _Scarlet Reaper_ he stood at the aft rail and gave a mighty heave, sending the hook flying toward the _Flag's_ main mast. The hook wrapped around the wooden post, much like the one that had around Nnoitra's neck, and spun around to lock onto the canvas sail.

Renji quickly let the rope lead out and tied it off to his ship's anchor bolt below the taffrail. He grabbed another hook and rope and repeated the process, this time with the rope winding around the other ship's mainyard.

The ropes tightened as the ships pulled the slack, and the sails caught in the hooks began to rip. Some of the crew looked up as the _Five Flags'_ sails tore under the tether.

A moan of wood echoed out across the waters, and then a groaning strain and a large snap as the rigging tumbled, catching in the shrouds before crashing onto the deck.

A cheer went up from the crew of the _Scarlet Reaper_, and a dozen men – nearly half of Renji's crew – ran for the aft deck. Moments later four more ropes joined the first two over the water, effectively pulling down the main and fore masts.

Renji turned his back on the second ship, pressing his hand to his ribs as the blinding pain there throbbed intensely through him. A few of his crew looked back at him, a weary, over-fought look on their faces.

"Tend your wounds," he told them. "Cut us off," he said to the quartermaster who was leaning over the taffrail to inspect the ropes stretched from the anchor bolts. "I don't want to drag any of the damage with us."

The quartermaster nodded, pulling the sword from his scabbard. "Aye, Cap'n."

"And double whiskey rations for everyone," Renji added, suppressing a groan as he made his way to the master cabin hatch. "For tomorrow, too."

He had no intentions of trying to sink the _Five Flags_, not with a scant few lines, but he did want to pull down her main rigging. He wanted no additional company on their voyage to Middle Rock, and he certainly did not want to see Nnoitra looming in his future again.

Or in Orihime's future.

* * *

In the captain's quarters, Orihime had heard the fight from the deck above, her fears realized when the shout had gone up from the crews as they faced each other. She'd held her breath for the half hour during the battle, or so it seemed to her, and when the noise of battle subsided, she still wondered the outcome.

It wasn't until she'd seen Nnoitra's form dumped over the side of the _Scarlet Reaper_ as she peeked through the slit of shutter as darkness grew across the waters that she fully realized Renji had won. After that the noises from above had been of low cursing, and she knew there were injuries.

She backed away from the first room's door at the master cabin as it opened moments later and Renji stepped in. It was more of a wobble than a step, and she saw why as he entered and she got a better look at him in the low light of the desk's lamp. She covered her mouth with both hands at the blood-soaked tan shirt at his waist, eyes rising to his face instantly.

"You're hurt."

Before he could speak she was at his side, trying to pull his hand from the worst of the reddened material.

He easily pushed her hands away, his other hand tight on the door latch for support. "Are you all right?"

She nodded. "It was the guard Nnoitra from the prison on the other ship."

"Yep." He intercepted her hand as she reached for him again. "Just sit down somewhere and don't look," he said, letting the door swing shut as he went to the bedroom.

"I can help." She slipped her arm around his waist, taking his arm over her shoulders before he realized she'd decided to dismiss his words. Her hand carefully maneuvered around his injured side as she tried to help support his weight.

"Orihime," he said as she escorted him through the doorway to the back room, "this is not something to help with. Go sit down. Izuru –"

"But I can help," she insisted, looking up at him as they stopped at the bedside. "Really I can. I've tended injuries before, Renji."

She undraped his arm from her shoulder and faced him. He looked down as her fingers pushed his hand from his side. She frowned, and then looked back to him. "I'll get a lamp. Sit down, Renji."

She moved away to the table where an oil lamp was turned down low and collected it and her sewing supplies from the bench.

Renji had doubts, serious doubts, about accepting her help, but when his stomach protested the blood collecting there, he consented. He went to a cupboard by his closet and found a full bottle of brandy and took a long moment to work off the cork. He took a drink from it, and then another, and then went to the portside wall and unlocked the shutter he'd closed earlier. Out the window dusk was settling over the waters and he could see the maimed _Five Flags _farther out. She was sufficiently lame, and for that he was satisfied.

He took another swig from the bottle and spit it out the window, half of it blood. The room brightened with light from the oil lamp.

He turned to find Orihime before him, her eyes on the ship out the window.

"Is he dead?"

He wished he could nod, but he didn't. "I doubt it. They probably hauled him up. But if he lives, I don't think he'll have much to say."

She turned back to him, her gaze dropping to his side. "Come lay down."

Renji let her take the shirt he'd used to quell the bleeding and help him out of his ripped and bloody shirt, leaning to the wall near the bed once as a wave of nausea passed over him. She made him sit on the bed, ignoring his protests as she pulled off his boots.

She soaked a long strip of gauze fabric from the chest in the wash basin she'd set beside the bed on a chair she'd moved, and then sat beside him on the mattress. She shook her head, examining the two lacerations on his stomach.

"You have to lie down, Renji." She stood and brought the oil lamp to the chair.

He sat back against the headboard and then moved cautiously further into the bed as his wounds screamed in protest. He muted his complaints as she sat beside him again, her attention on the injuries.

She squeezed the water out of a smaller piece of cloth soaking in the basin. "How did he find us?"

"Izuru said the _Five Flags_ left Dove just before we got there." He held his breath as she gently wiped the cloth over his skin, seeing her eyes skip from the tattoos on his ribs to his wounds. "They came in under the pretense of needing freshwater."

She nodded, biting her lower lip to steady the slight shaking of her hands. She didn't like the look to the jagged slashes on him. One was across his ribs, a clean cut that had stretched wider from Renji's movements while fighting. The other was a puncture, deep, and she could see the white of bone at the top. She washed the dried and fresh blood from the area, hoping they had bled clean against infection. There was only so much she could do.

"Nnoitra is very persistent," he remarked, watching the top of her head as she leaned over him.

She nodded, looking at him only briefly. "But I didn't think he'd find us at sea."

She sat more on the bed, her fingers tender on the area around his injuries, barely touching the severed skin as she examined it.

Renji grunted as he reached for the bottle of brandy on the chair she'd set close to the bed. He took a long drink, wishing it would dull his senses faster. At least, some of his senses. "Izuru can do this, if it makes you sick."

She shook her head, her hair moving so that he could see the amber and garnet beads beneath. She took his free hand and washed the bloodstains from it.

"You've tended wounds before?" He took another drink from the bottle.

She folded the damp cloth flat and laid it over both his injuries, pressing firmly. "My aunt showed me how to heal injuries."

There was something in the manner she'd said it that made him curious.

"You lived with your aunt?"

Orihime shook her head, keeping her hand tight at his side. "No. With my parents, but my brother and I spent a lot of time at my aunt's house."

He nodded. She looked back down to her work.

"Why would she teach you about healing? Is that what she did?"

She shook her head, and this time he couldn't resist the auburn tresses of hair that seemed to beckon to be touched at her shoulder. He picked the strand of beads from her hair, watching the small amber pieces absorb the oil lamp's light.

She looked to the beads, and then him. "I should clean them now. They're going to sting."

He nodded, leaning back to the headboard, letting his hand remain on her shoulder.

She took a second smaller bottle of whiskey from the supplies she'd set on the chair. She set the blood-dampened cloth back in the basin and took a clean cloth of gauze. She ripped it in half, her mind running ahead of her.

Also on the chair were needle and thread, but she didn't plan to use them. She wasn't quite sure how she would explain to him her methods. She poured a small amount of whiskey on a gauze cloth and looked to him.

"Are you ready?"

He wasn't, but he nodded.

She sat closer beside him and tentatively held the alcohol-damp cloth to the injured area. A low growl came from him as he endured the intense cutting sting to the wounds.

"Done?" he asked after a few moments.

She nodded and removed the cloth, wiping carefully at the edges of the injuries. She held the dry cloth to the area for a moment, and then looked to his hand still at her shoulder.

"You have a lot of tattoos," she said.

He nodded, the bottle still in one hand as the brandy finally started helping. She looked to the black cloth still tied over his head. She could see the black of tattoos above his eyes, disappearing under the cloth.

She looked back to his abdomen, her hand covering the gauze more thoroughly, pressing slightly. "I can't do anything for the pain, Renji," she said by way of explanation.

"That's what this is for," he said, taking another drink from the bottle. He offered it to her.

Under most circumstances Orihime would have declined, but she knew what was in store for her the next few hours. Healing always drained her, and it took more out of her than anyone knew. That was why Sora had taken her away from their opportunistic parents.

She took the bottle and allowed herself a small drink. It was far too strong, cutting, and she quickly handed it back.

He chuckled at the disagreeable expression on her face. "Too strong?"

She nodded, smiling.

She looked back down, concentrating on sending her powers into the wounds.

It always cost her, even the slightest healing, but usually it was not much. A few months at most, but more so when she was tired or weak, like when she'd healed the blue-haired prison guard's lashes.

Now she could feel it draw from her, that uncertain power that had a price, a cost to her. A form of alchemy, her aunt had told her. An exchange of one form to another, but at a cost for that exchange.

Her parents – her mother, in particular – had been thrilled at the prospect of selling Orihime's talents.

Sora had seen to it that that had not happened. Her mother had already made plans to use up all her future.

Renji looked down as her hand pressed, watching her fingers curl over his ribs on the cloth. He could feel the draw, his skin tightening as it mended from deep inside, unlike he'd ever felt before. He set the bottle on the chair and took her hand from the gauze.

"No, wait," she said, trying to keep her hand firm on his side.

His eyes flicked to hers as she leaned more over him. "What are you doing, Orihime?" He searched her eyes, seeing something different in them this time. "Are you – you're making it do that?"

She braced her other hand across him by his hip on the mattress to keep the contact of her hand on the gauze despite his grip. "It's best not to interrupt the healing process, Renji."

He let her hand rest on him, holding the cloth to his injuries, seeing her eyes drop down again, but not to her work. Her gaze followed the tattoos crossing his chest; he could see them move along the lines, his mind straying to thoughts prompted by the potent brandy.

He moved his hand from her shoulder to her neck, her skin soft beneath his fingers, and this time she nearly moved her hand from the gauze cloth on her own. She shook her head as she put her other hand to his wrist, halting his fingers from moving beneath her hair behind her ear.

He frowned, this time not in response to the pain still shooting up his side and stomach. "You don't like your hair touched?"

A deep blush flamed over her cheeks, noticeable even in the modest light of the lamp. "No, I like ... it's not that," she said, shifting a little but not moving away as she lowered her hand to rest beside him again. "Not that."

He sighed carefully, feeling the injuries beneath her hand still sore. He took another long drink from the bottle, returning her study. "You can tell me things, Orihime. I've been honest with you."

For a moment she only nodded slowly, a different uncertainty in her face. "I will."

She looked back down to her work, her hand easing up from the cloth. She lifted it to check the progress. The wounds were stitching closed from the inside first, leaving the surface of the skin still open. She covered it with the cloth again.

She looked up as the bottle on the bed beside her moved at an odd angle, and found Renji sleeping. She took the bottle and set it on the chair, and then rinsed another cloth from the basin to wash the bloodstains from his hand. She set his clean hand to his side, and then watched him sleep.

A small smile crept to her face. She was glad he was sleeping. She could do nothing for the pain and healing took time. She scooted closer and spent a moment removing his headrag, chiding herself as she pushed his hair from his face, her fingers pausing at one black mark near his eye. He stirred but didn't wake, and Orihime's gaze dropped to his neck, and then to the other tattoos on him.

Never before had she seen anyone tattooed like he was, and felt a little guilty to study him so thoroughly. She took a moment to pull the blanket over him before placing her hand back over the injuries, her mind tossing.

She took a deep breath, sighing as she felt her strength drawing away, and then looked to her hand beside him as his fingers closed over hers. She looked up to see that he slept on, his face a little pale from the extent of his injuries.

It was going to be a long night, Orihime knew, feeling her strength leaving through her hand at his side.

She smiled, feeling Renji's hand tighten slightly on hers. She was quite sure it would cost her a lot this time.

She also knew it was worth it.

* * *

**Author's Note:** _Rating will change to M within the next two chapters. Thanks for reading!_


	8. Chapter Eight

The _Primera_ floated just off the northern coast of Weaver's Isle, rounding the island's fragrantly tree-lined seaboard as a breeze brought the scent of ylang ylang to the few fortunate crewmen watching from the ship's rail that dusk.

Ulquiorra was not usually one given to appreciating beauty, but the scent riding the wind reminded him of his favorite prisoner, one who'd left his keep too early, in his opinion.

Further down the rail stood Grimmjow on the main deck, also looking to the island they'd been circling for a day. While he didn't quite harbor the sentiments Ulquiorra did, the alluring scent on the breeze did remind him of the girl who'd healed his arm. He gave the tall trees lining the hills a piercing look.

"You're thinking about her." He said it to Ulquiorra, but expected no reply from the usually stoic guard. On some level, they all were, Grimmjow knew, thinking about the prisoner's island home they were now preparing to attack. No one seemed too interested in the current mission, not once they'd gotten out from under Aizen's influence in the desert compound. Perspectives had become skewed, or maybe more sharply focused. He glanced to Ulquiorra, who was still watching the tall, scented trees rustle in the rising breeze.

"So are you," Ulquiorra said, not looking to him. "It's a beautiful island. I don't understand the logic in destroying any of it."

Grimmjow put one foot on the base of the rail of the _Primera's_ side. He leaned both elbows on the rail, secretly enjoying the perfumed breeze ascending from the tall trees. "Doesn't matter if you understand or not." He chuckled, watching Ulquiorra scowl. "Questioning your orders?"

Ulquiorra shot him a dark look. "Of course not." His attention went to the center of the ship. The _Primera_ was a three-masted ship, deep in draft and faster than her captain generally was. She'd moved unnoticed around Weaver's Isle the last day, far enough from the few ports to remain unseen, close enough to get a good bearing on the small land mass' weaknesses.

There was no navy, no fleet of ships to put up any fight against the few ships Aizen planned on using against the island, and no ally to call for aid. The mainland would give no support, as the Emperor had decreed, and no one traded with any regularity to notice problems with the island. At the center of the ship were five catapults, each with a range capable of reaching far into the island while remaining a safe distance from the coast. Each was also equipped with a growing number of steel crates of waxed and oiled round cork plugs as large as a man's head.

Ulquiorra's gaze flicked to the other crates, the more ignitable ones of thick arrows ready to send flaming projectiles into the limbs once the cork balls were nestled in the ylang ylang trees. It was an incendiary tactic, one designed to burn down one of the island's most coveted resources. Aizen wanted the island and was in no mood to use further diplomatic channels; its governor was dead, Aizen's favorite ransom escaped. It was time to move along another avenue of his plans.

Grimmjow gave the catapults a glimpse, then looked to where the first mate, Lilynette, was sitting at the quarterdeck stairs. He wasn't entirely sure of the gender of the first mate, but according to Captain Starrk, it was female. He glanced to Ulquiorra, noticing the other guardsman was silently counting the cork balls.

A sudden explosion from deeper within the island echoed out, followed by a column of purple-gray smoke that rose at the west end.

"What the hell was that?" Grimmjow stood straight, seeing the plume disperse into the darkening sky. "Did Aizen send anyone else?"

Ulquiorra was also studying the smoke.

From the fore of the ship there was a thundering of feet as the rest of the crew emerged from the forecastle.

Grimmjow looked back to Lilynette, who seemed only vaguely interested in the smoke. "Go get your lazy captain!"

She gave him a sour look, and then hopped down the steps and dove into the captain's cabin at the rear of the ship below the quarterdeck.

Grimmjow looked back to the smoke. It was dissolving into the night, spreading out among the few stars twinkling over the water.

"Someone else," Ulquiorra said, frowning at the smoke. "Could there be someone else here already? With the governor dead, anyone could easily attack the island."

Grimmjow gave a lethal chuckle. "Someone got to one of Aizen's prizes before he could? Ha!"

Ulquiorra gave him a look of warning. "Your non-compliance in matters has been noted, Grimmjow."

The taller guard shrugged, one hand resting on the sword at his side. "What of it?" His eyes followed the thinning smoke. "You made adjustments for that little flower while she was under your care."

Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed on the island.

Grimmjow didn't say aloud what he thought; the prisoner Ulquiorra had been so cautious about had been unlike their usual detainees. "Perhaps your _lord_ has made a mistake in some of his plans."

Ulquiorra's gaze was still on the island. "I don't see the reasoning in this battle," he finally said.

Grimmjow had given parts of Aizen's plans much thought; he had the inkling Ulquiorra had, too. "Nnoitra is gone. This Starrk fellow is more pirate than captain," he said in a lower tone. "Aizen hasn't got the fleet he damn well needs to take on the mainland. You know that."

From behind them came a loud yawn and a scuffle of boots. They both looked back at the captain of the _Primera_. He was a lanky, dark-haired man more interested in a hammock than orders, and he was now leaning at the open doorway of the rear cabin, looking at the island without much interest.

Starrk yawned again, nodding to his crew gathering at the front of the ship, a low murmur of voices as the sailors pointed to the smoke. He looked back to Ulquiorra and Grimmjow, nodding to each.

Ulquiorra turned to Grimmjow. "I know that," he said in response to their previous conversation, his tone dropping, seeing there was more to Grimmjow's stunted observation. "I'm still listening."

* * *

Renji awoke the next morning to a throbbing pain shooting through him. It began in his left side and radiated up through his ribs, ending in various spots in his torso. He kept his eyes shut, feeling the _Scarlet Reaper _sway on the waters, the side to side motion rocking the hull like a large cradle.

It was a few minutes more before he did open his eyes, realizing the movement was wrong; for the past three weeks the ship had been a to and fro movement when he slept at the desk chair, but now, as his eyes adjusted to the early morning light of the bedroom, he recalled he was in bed. His bed.

He automatically looked to the mattress beside him, for a brief moment wondering what had become of the girl who'd claimed his bed lately. He sighed in relief, the exhale bringing on another bout of pain, as he saw Orihime at the other edge of the bed, half tangled in sheets. She was facing away from him, her form buried under the sheet across her waist and hips, the material gripped to her chin in both hands.

He took a careful moment to settle on his side and pulled the excess of sheet over her, draping it across her as his ribs rebelled in pain at the movement. For a moment he watched her breathe, seeing the rise and fall of her chest in sleep, her eyes closed in exhaustion.

His fingers touched her skin as he moved the sheet, finding her shoulder cold. He sat up, ignoring the assorted pains in his chest and side.

He put one hand to her shoulder, her skin uncannily cool.

"Orihime," he said, letting her fingers close over her shoulder. "Orihime?"

She slept on, her skin too cool for Renji's liking. He pulled more of the sheet over her, not quite tucking it around her as securely as he thought it should be, or as he wanted to, but enough, he hoped, to bring back some of her escaped body heat.

The room was cool, but warming in the early morning's foggy gray light seeping through the mostly drawn blinds. It was too warm in the room for her to feel so cool, he determined, and the shooting pain in his side reminded him of what little she'd explained of her healing abilities.

His hand rubbed over her bare shoulder near the lilac slip strap, her cool skin absorbing none of his own heat.

"Just sleep," he told her, leaning a little farther over his side to see her face. Her eyes remained shut, sleeping heavily beneath a shock of auburn hair that fell over her face.

He pushed her hair away, settling it at her shoulder, and as an afterthought, let his fingers smooth the soft waves at her temple. He'd wanted to do that for a long time. She slept on, and almost reluctantly he took the opportunity to let a thick auburn strand slip between his fingers, pulling the tresses to lie at the back of her neck. In that slight disturbance he could see where the hair met her scalp.

Now he sat up fully, sitting closer to her back as she slept on. He moved her hair to one side at her temple, where she always stopped his hand when he made any attempt to touch her hair. Amid the soft strands he could see a pattern on her scalp, a henna-colored tattoo, it appeared to be, of three small flowers in a row. He smoothed her hair away to see it better.

The three flowers were in a line, each touching the others, their detailing in dark henna color. He studied it for a moment, and then gently covered the spot, grinning a little at the soft fragrance of heady amber and ylang ylang on her.

He covered her better with the sheet and turned to give his ribs a cursory look. Everything was intact, no open wounds, no further injury; just a lot of bruising amid the black tattoos.

His thoughts returned to the henna colored flowers. So the tentative story he'd built around her may not be correct. Perhaps, he knew, neither was the one she'd told him.

He got out of bed and slowly dressed. The movements of pulling on fresh pants and a clean shirt brought on more pain, but he kept his complaints to a minimum, not wanting to wake Orihime.

It didn't look to him like she was aware of anything; in fact, she seemed deadened to _anything_ going on. He wasn't sure he liked that. He took a moment to examine closer the wounds Nnoitra had so happily inflicted. His ribs were bruised, but there was no swelling, no lacerations, the injuries marked only by the purple-blue beneath his skin. It was more than he could have hoped for. He pulled on his boots.

Renji had been across enough of the water and in the darker of ports to know a woman's scalp was tattooed for few reasons. No brother, husband, or father would ever do such to any woman he loved.

But masters, slave owners in particular, _that_ was another matter. And to mark a woman's scalp was a definition of another sort.

He scowled at the bed, his eyes moving over the shapely figure beneath the sheets.

Slaves were branded and tattooed. Pleasure slaves, however, were tattooed such as Orihime was.

He belted his scabbard on and went on deck.

The main deck of the _Scarlet Reaper_ was still ravaged from the battle the day before. Crewmen were in stages of inebriation, sleeping against the rails and barrels, most bandaged, but whole. The ship was heading due west, to the mainland, and to Middle Rock, a good port to lick wounds and patch a wrecked vessel. Renji had become well-acquainted with the harbor during his sail with Zaraki.

"Hey, you're moving around good, Captain," Izuru greeted as he caught up with Renji. He nodded, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "She wouldn't let me tend you; said you were taken care of." Under other circumstances, Izuru would have made more of the comment, but Renji didn't look like he was in the mood for it. "You okay, Renji?"

"She patched me up fine." He nodded. "How are we on water?"

"Better than I thought." Izuru looked sheepish beneath his abrasions and slight bruises. "We had two more barrels of freshwater mislabeled in the back hold. We're good until the mainland."

Renji nodded again, his attention going to where Broc was emerging from the forecastle in the sparse fog still shrouding the deck. "Good. I want to unload some of our crew and pick up crew hands we know. I want no more surprises."

Izuru frowned. "You think that Nnoitra will be back?"

"If he's alive, yeah." He looked the blond man over. "You okay?"

Izuru nodded. "Been better, but yeah."

"Good." Renji watched Broc move among the injured, kicking a few feet of those who didn't move out of his path. "You know, I knew from the beginning she could be lying about everything," he said after a moment. Izuru was as close a friend as he had, and a confident, even when drunk. "She doesn't have to lie to me."

Izuru glanced to the companionway entry and then back to Renji. "You think she is? Why would she lie?"

Renji shrugged against his better judgment, his ribs protesting. "Lady Kuchiki said the other prisoners held hostage lied all the time. Sometimes they said they were daughters, sometimes wives. But," he said, sighing, "sometimes they said they were wealthy when at other times they'd admitted they were merely servants." He looked to Izuru. "Aizen took the wrong women and girls sometimes, and some of them wanted to be worth more than they were. Increase their chances of getting ransomed out of hell, I guess."

Izuru looked more slowly to the quarterdeck, thinking over the possibility. "You can't blame them – her – for something like that, Renji." He frowned. "But you said her ransom had been paid several times. That Nnoitra didn't come after her because she was worthless. Someone cares."

"I don't care what she is, where she's from." Renji looked to the sky as the milky sun shone brighter, slowly burning off the morning fog. "Something doesn't make sense about her."

"Did she tell you something?"

"No." It was a telltale sign close to Renji, having served in the Kuchiki estate. "She hasn't lied to me, but what I thought she might be...well, I guess it could still be true. Have you ever heard of slavery on Weaver's Isle?"

For a moment Izuru didn't answer, rather staring back with more than his typical misgivings. "No," he said slowly. "You think she's a slave?"

"Not exactly." Renji shook his head. "Forget it. It doesn't matter anyway."

"No one really knows what goes on on Weaver's Isle," Izuru said. "The Emperor wants it that way. You probably know more than most mainlanders."

"The inhabitants there keep to themselves. I only met the dock master and a few merchants."

For a moment they both watched the slight fog lift, allowing the day to warm and bring out the smell of blood from the damp deck boards. The able-bodied crew set about bringing up buckets of lye and salt water to wash down the deck.

Izuru debated asking, and then said, "You think she's hiding something? Who she is?"

"I know she's hiding something; it just isn't what I thought she was." Renji grinned. "Guess we all do, huh?"

Izuru nodded. "Sometimes, yeah."

* * *

Renji ran through every scenario he could think of that day to explain what he knew of Orihime from the Hueco Mundo prison. Every theory had its flaws and broke apart when he tried to fit together what he thought he knew and what she'd told him.

It didn't matter, most of what could be lies, he knew, but he did want the truth from her. That mattered.

He watched her sleep the last few hours that evening, nursing a bottle of brandy to take the edge off the pain in his ribs. His vigil from the table in the bedchamber had changed from curious musings to a growing concern over her lengthy sleep. By early evening she'd warmed up, her skin growing to a more normal temperature, and as often as he checked her shoulder, Renji didn't inspect her scalp again.

When Orihime opened her eyes groggily to the dim light of the oil lamp it was nearly sunset. She let her eyes adjust, her weariness still taxing her. She slowly pulled the sheets back, at first unaware of Renji still sitting at the table. She flinched when she saw him, yelping as she instinctively gathered the sheets to her chest.

"Oh! How, how are you feeling, Renji?"

He nodded. "I'm fine, thanks to you. Are you all right? You slept the whole day."

She smiled. "Yes, I...I was just so tired. Still am." In the oil lamplight from the table she could see the large bruises at his ribs through the open shirt he wore. His hair was still down, but pulled back in a loose braid, and it reminded her that hers was probably a mess. "Are you really okay?"

He nodded. "Hungry?"

"Oh, yes."

He let her get dressed and wash up as he went into the first room to see about her dinner, at odds with a few thoughts running through his mind.

Orihime was oblivious to Renji's dilemma as she changed into the lavender silk dress. It was too late to dress for a day that had expired, but she wanted out of the night slip for a bit. She washed her face and combed her hair, tucking the thin braid under her hair. She was pleased Renji was healing, but he seemed quieter than his normal self. She assumed it was the usual weariness of injury and battle.

She herself was still exhausted, the healing sapping most of her strength that had not fully returned. When she got to the table, the room was empty, her plate at the table, Renji gone.

Orihime sighed and sat down to eat, listening to the sounds of the crewmen above on deck. Even after she finished eating there was no sign of Renji, and she sat at the bench by the open window to watch the starlight play over the dark rippling waves on the water. He returned half an hour later and found her sitting.

"Get enough to eat?"

"Yes," she said, moving part of her skirt from the bench to give him room to sit down.

He sat beside her, refusing to groan at the dull pain his ribs sent through him. "Is it always like that after you heal someone, Orihime?" he asked. "Sleeping so long."

She nodded. "Sometimes. Depending on the injury." Her eyes went to the bruise at his side, and then to the tattoos crossing his chest before meeting his gaze. "I'm sorry I slept so long, Renji."

He shook his head. "That's not a problem." He let one arm rest on the window frame, his fingers barely touching her shoulder, the shoulder that had earlier been so cold he'd been worried. "I told you before that you can tell me things, Orihime."

She nodded, looking to each of his eyes. "I will."

"Anything." His finger traced a stand of hair laying over the curve of her shoulder. "When I decided to take you out of the prison, when I decided to come back after we found Rukia," he said, "I didn't know who you were. I didn't care. It still doesn't matter."

She sighed, looking down to where her knee was settled against his. "I know. Thank you. It was a chance you didn't have to take for me."

"I don't care if you're not worth another ransom to your brother, or whoever has paid for your return," he said gently, "and nor do I care if there is _no_ brother."

Her large eyes rose to his quickly. "But I do have a brother, Renji."

He nodded. "Whatever past you have, it doesn't matter. And if you don't want to go back to it, don't want to go home, you don't have to. I won't take you anywhere you don't want to go."

She frowned, sensing something different in this conversation than the others. "If I don't want to go home?"

"Yes." He watched her fingers smooth her skirt between them. "I saw the tattoo beneath your hair. You don't have to go back –"

"You saw...? Is it still there?" She leaned away from him, her hand automatically going to her hair, fingers probing. "It's not a tattoo, Renji." Her voice broke. "Is it still there?"

"Yes."

"All...all of it?"

He frowned. "Yes. Of course all of it, I think. Three flowers." He put a hand over hers, feeling her fingers tense. He lowered her hand, the resistance in her trembling fingers making him rethink his theories. "If you have a master, I'll not take you back. You don't have to go back."

Orihime's hand stilled in his, her comprehension slowly catching up to his innuendo. "You think...you think I'm a _slave_, Renji?"

"Are you?"

She looked down to their hands, sighing slowly as his hand slipped beneath her hair. "I'm not a slave. I guess it does look like a marking of sorts," she said quietly, looking back to him. "It's a birthmark. My aunt said it's what allows me to heal. I'm not supposed to show anyone or tell anyone about it. My brother is very protective of me, and that's why he took us away from our parents to..." she hesitated, searching his face for a moment. "To Weaver's Isle."

For a moment he simply looked at the cascade of auburn hair covering the mark, the lamplight flickering warm tones over her. He glanced back to her face, seeing the mixture of hopefulness and reserve still in her eyes. "That's how you heal?"

She nodded.

"I figured you were from Weaver's Isle." He grinned, bringing a smile from her. "But if it's not the truth, Orihime, you can still tell me."

"It's the truth." She let her hand go to the edge of his open shirt, still tempted to ask him other questions.

His hand left hers and circled around her waist, bringing her closer on the bench until she instinctively settled both arms around his neck, stirring the scent of amber stronger. She felt her pulse jump as he pressed his lips to hers, the firm pressure warm and inviting in a way she hadn't yet experienced. He pulled her against him, her lips responding eagerly to his, a little awkward in anticipation yet softly supple as they followed his movements.

For a moment Orihime let her eyes close, conscious only of the breathless movements of his mouth on hers, his arms strong around her, oblivious to anything else on the ship until her fingers were locked in his hair at the nape of his neck. She didn't know when she had pulled him as tightly to herself as she had, but when he let her ease away a moment later she found herself reluctant to part even slightly.

She sat back a bit, still content to be close against him, her fingers moving softly down the back of his neck, unknowingly crossing the black marks there. She caught her breath, smiling as he lightly kissed the corner of her mouth.

"You should go back to bed," he said, inhaling the enticing scent of her skin, calling out a fortitude of morals he hadn't summoned in a while. "Alone, tonight." He grinned at her blush in the starlight from the window. "Catch up on your strength, Orihime."

She nodded, sighing in his arms, still weary and strangely exhilarated at the same time. "I will," she said, putting off her questions until another moment.

He let her settle back onto the bench and kissed her lips once more. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Renji."

* * *

**Author's Note:** _Rating to raise to M in the next chapter. Thanks for reading!_


	9. Chapter Nine

_This chapter is rated M for sexual contact. Please skip it if this will offend you._

* * *

Two days away from the coast was the best distance for picking victim ships for pirates. Cargo ships were fat with merchant cargo and the plunder was well worth the risk of lifting. Renji knew that from his time aboard Zaraki's ship.

He also knew with Seireitei shutting down harbors, there were few ports he could dock at and then make an easy departure. He'd chanced that in Merristone and knew the odds were far greater now with Aizen's escapades along the coast. It was one reason he wanted to dock at Middle Rock. It was a lax port with heavy pirate and smuggler traffic, and the _Scarlet Reaper_ would blend right in.

He stood at ship's bow in the growing dusk, watching the hull cut through the water under good winds in the faint fog. It had been a muggy, hazy day, and the wind that filled the sails was damp and should have lent to rain. His injuries were a day old, healing better than they should have been, but still hampering some of his movements. They put him in close contact with Orihime for occasional inspection, which had led to a few pleasant kisses, but nothing more. It was there, though, that shared closeness on a personal level. He liked the promise of it.

A low mumbling of voices made him look to the forecastle hatch where Broc and his cronies were keeping to themselves. Renji had every intention of leaving them in Middle Rock, and from what he'd heard from Izuru, Broc wasn't exactly happy about it.

A light mist finally fell from the dark gray skies that were turning violet with the evening, layering the deck with a slick sheen of water, and every crewman not needed for duty and sober enough to walk headed for the crew's quarters in the forecastle. Renji gave the boatswain and helmsman a few final orders and left for his quarters.

Orihime was sitting in the window of the first room behind his desk as he came in. She turned to look to him, her hand closing in her lap as he glanced to her in the muted light of an oil lamp.

"It's starting to rain," he said, crossing the room. The lamp was bolted to one side of the desk, the wick shedding light on the chart he'd left out. "You'll get wet, Orihime. Come out of the window."

She took a deep breath, looking back to the water chasing along the side of the ship outside. "I like the rain."

He sat down in the desk chair near her, turning to see her better. He'd escaped the rain in time, judging by the sound of the raindrops falling harder on the water outside the window. "I guess weeks in a desert prison will do that to you."

She smiled, her attention going back to him. "I've always liked it." Her fingers moved around something in her hand. "Will there be a storm?"

He shook his head, watching her pull her leg closer to the window ledge seat, grinning at the fold the blue material made over her hip. "Doubt it. No storm today." He saw the hint of a blush cross her cheeks. "It'll be dark early; getting there now."

He reached under the desk's side drawer for a magnifying glass and unrolled the chart completely on the desk. He wasn't quite sure how to broach the subject, but he figured she deserved to know a bit of what he knew. After all, if the Quincy at the Kuchiki estate had braved the mainland from which he was banned to deliver the braid of hair, Orihime may want to know that she was still in the heart of her brother. He smoothed the chart with his hand, turning up the wick on the lamp with the other so the map was better defined.

"Before I left the mainland to get you," he said, "a Quincy paid a visit to the Kuchiki household." He half turned to see her, ignoring the brief spike of pain that shot through his torso.

Orihime sat straighter, the rain outside forgotten. "A Quincy?"

"I didn't hear what he wanted," he said, nodding, watching her face carefully. "He had a braid of hair with him, the color of yours, with the beads attached."

"Oh." She let her legs drop from the seat, pulling her skirt over her knees. Her fingers went to the tips of her hair.

"It was yours?"

She nodded slowly. "Maybe. I'm not sure, Renji. I don't know. It might be from another hostage."

He sat back in the chair, watching her twist the strand of hair which was a little fuller from the humid day. The movement caught the lamplight, making her hair take on copper and bronze tones. He saw the doubt flit over her face; maybe he shouldn't have brought up the subject. She was clearly the type to worry over her friends, and he hadn't heard any names. "He was at Byakuya Kuchiki's with a letter," he said. "You say your brother isn't wealthy, and if he's already paid Aizen several times, I figure now it was an appeal to aid with your ransom."

Her gaze dropped to her hand as her fingers relaxed in her closed hand. "I don't know why Lord Aizen wouldn't let me go if my ransom had been paid."

"Because you were a profitable captive." Renji didn't like saying it. He held out one arm, his hand nearly touching her knee. "Come over here and show me which dot is Weaver's Isle."

She stood, looking to each of his eyes quickly before realizing he wasn't serious. "Oh, you know where it is. Don't you?"

He grinned as she stood beside him. "Yeah, I know, Orihime." His arm came around her waist, pulling her closer, bringing with her the scent of warm amber. He moved one leg so she could stand nearer the desk. "Show me anyway. See if you can find it on the chart."

She smiled more, letting herself move into the circle of his arm, and then let her hand rest on his shoulder as she looked at the map. For a moment she examined the small brown dots and landmasses outlined on the tan parchment chart, vaguely recognizing some of them. She pointed to one small dot near a long coastline. "Here. I think."

He nodded. "That's it."

She looked to his arm as he pulled her down to sit on his thigh, facing the table. She hesitated only for a second, and then settled more comfortably, her hand going to his neck as his arm closed around her waist better.

"Have you been there?"

He nodded. With the proximity, the lamplight made her eyes take on a dark violet, nearly without color. "It smells of ylang ylang in summer and aromatic resins when the tree saps are being burnt out."

She nodded, her unvoiced question as close to being answered without asked as she could hope. "You really have been there."

He grinned, pleased that she'd finally accepted him into her confidence. His attention flicked to her closed hand on the table. "What do you have?"

She smiled a little, opening her fingers. In her palm were the few garnet, amber, and pearl beads.

He sat back and pulled her closer. His fingers moved the bulk of her hair to find the unbraided strand at her shoulder now crimped and empty of beads.

On the table his hand covered hers, turning it to let the beads roll onto the chart. She glanced to them, the movement making her hair tuck under his chin.

She giggled slightly, seeing the small stones and pearls drift across the chart's sea. "Like little ships."

"They could be." His hand moved from hers to pull her legs across his other knee.

She turned back to him, studying him intently. The smell of sea air was about him, something she'd noticed the first time he'd come near her in the prison cell. At that time she was unable to determine what it was, but she'd liked it.

She let herself lean to him, pushing the headrag back from his forehead as his hand slid up her back and brought her face closer. She felt her hair drape across them, and this time she was ready for his firm kiss as his arm anchored her closer. Her fingers wiped the black rag from his hair, leaving it only in a loose ponytail at his neck. Her arm settled around his neck as his hand followed her knee below her skirt to the back of her thigh. Her knees bent, locked over his leg as he deepened the kiss, catching her breath away, feeling her heartbeat quicken against his.

Both were oblivious to the increase in rain outside until a low rumble of thunder grumbled into the room. Orihime sat back a few inches, still surrounded by his arm, very aware of his other hand at the back of her leg. Beneath her leg at his lap she could feel a definite hard length forming, making her look to his face. She blushed, and then found she liked the feeling against her, that it summoned a response new to her. For a moment she watched his eyes, feeling the pulse build beneath her fingers at taut skin of his neck.

"I want to take you to the other room," he said in a low tone, his hand beneath her skirt moving slightly to the side of her hip.

She nodded, swallowing.

This time his hand moved to the top of her hip, fingers spread wide over the curve there. "You're sure?"

Her fingers traced up the side of his neck. "Yes, Renji."

His hand moved and his arm slipped under her knees, and then picked her up bridal style and blew out the oil lamp.

The room darkened.

The bedchamber was already dark when they got there. The window shutters were half closed already from the expectation for rain. Renji lowered Orihime to her knees on the mattress and sat beside her. He pulled the sheet and blanket down from the bed pillows, then let his hand rest at her ankle to her side. For a moment his fingers edged beneath her skirt folded at her legs, eyes on her face. In the hazy moonlight he could see the nervousness in her eyes.

He sat back. "Are you cold?"

"No."

"I can build a fire if you are."

She shook her head.

In the faint light she watched him take off his shirt, feeling body heat from the movement even without touching him. She could see the black tattoos at his chest, the ones she'd studied so shyly a few nights before when she'd tended his wounds. He wore no bandages now, but a little bruising still showed as a dark spot at his lower ribs.

"Can, can you do ... this?" she asked, smiling a little as she nodded to his side.

He grinned, kissing her mouth. "Don't underestimate your healing abilities, Orihime."

She wanted to giggle, but didn't, instead shifting her knees to her side as he slipped her skirt from under her. She thought it would be more awkward, but he eased the dress over her hips and then waist and shoulders, his arm wrapping around her in the muggy air as the material was shed. For a few seconds she felt exposed, even knowing the only eyes on her were his. He brushed the hair from her cheek, kissing her lips lightly as his hand cupped the edge of her jaw, turning her face up.

She hadn't time to feel the pale light of the cloudy moon her breasts as he pulled her close to his chest, hiding most of her against him as he kissed her lips for a long moment. She let her arms return his embrace, feeling the muscles at his back tighten as his arms moved around her.

He kissed a warm line from her lips to her chin and then lower, tilting her head back with a nudge of his lips at her throat, his hand in her hair as her back cradled against his forearm. She kept her eyes closed in the dark room, every sense following his lips as they touched softly along her neck to her collarbone.

He lowered her back, lips returning to hers in a stronger kiss that pushed her into the pillow. She pulled him closer, both arms around him in an eager hold. Her hand found the tie holding his ponytail and pulled it free, dropping it absently in the dark. She wasn't sure if it was his hair or hers lying on her shoulders as he kissed again from her mouth to her neck, content to be absorbed with him. One arm was still around her back, keeping her in a strong hold as his other hand glided over the angle of her waist to her hips as his full weight covered her, and she wondered, very briefly, when he'd removed his pants.

It was a blink of a thought, and she let her legs come around him, hesitantly at first, until his lips paused at throat, kissing softly until she felt his hard length against the inside of her thigh. At first her leg over his instinctively flinched, and then her body relaxed beneath him, succumbing to his lips caressing her throat.

With unpracticed movements, she pulled him closer, easing her legs around him more, breathing a trembling sigh as the hard end of his length rubbed against her soft sides of entry. His kiss brought her pulse to a pound in anticipation, her hands pressing at his back as a new eagerness welled in her. Her hand lowered along his back, feeling the movements his hip made, a rhythmic motion that touched her deeper.

Renji slid one arm beneath her waist, lifting her against him, the warmth between them heavy with the damp air and mingling with amber and musk. Orihime opened her eyes to his, taking a ragged breath at the prodding verging within her. She let her eyes drift closed, arms around him as her face buried in his chest.

With a quick movement he pushed in, holding her as she gave a short gasp. Her arms contracted around him, for a moment her tight embrace freezing as he slowed, letting her catch her breath. She waited for the new pain to subside, her hands gradually easing down his back, taking a breath as he began moving within her. Within a few slow strokes she responded with a growing craving, moving with him in less ineptness.

His lips pressed to hers, now with kisses that nearly took her breath, bringing her to short panting. She didn't know how long they moved, that rocking motion that made her long for every thrust he made, his name silent on her lips as she exhaled hot breaths over his shoulder.

She loved that his face was hot in her hair, feeling the swell inside her increase in intensity at his skin with hers. She clamped her arms and legs around him, feeling herself clench him within as her deepest core arced in a wave of response, pulling moans from her she'd never known. Beneath her hands his tattooed back suddenly hunched tighter, more powerful trusts echoing in her with equal fervor.

Renji let her head lower to the pillow as she groaned in complete satisfaction, catching his breath as her hands loosened around him, fingers still light as they trailed to his waist. He kissed her wet throat, licking the angle of her soft skin to the bottom of her ear, feeling her throat as it moved as she swallowed, still panting.

Her hands drew up his back, fingers reveling in the touch of him over her. She sighed in the thick air, the sounds of the rain on the sea broken by far away thunder. She opened her eyes as he pushed the hair from her face, some of it his, and laid back down on her. She'd never been so weak, so exhausted, but she lifted her lips to his jaw, kissing softly as her fingers moved to the nape of his neck.

Orihime sighed again, her head dropping to the pillow, smiling as his arms moved from her back and he braced both forearms at the pillow on either side of her. He watched her smile in the dim light, and then hungrily kissed her lips, unwilling to resist. He eased away a few inches, enough to see her eyes.

"Enough for now?" he asked, kissing one eye as she closed it.

She giggled, something she wondered if he could feel inside her. "Is there more?"

He grinned. "Not right at this moment." He let two fingers separate a strand of hair from the others, feeling the damp auburn tresses, smelling the heady fragrances pervading her body. "But if you give me a few minutes, Orihime..."

She shuddered involuntarily, her arms returning around his back. "Maybe a little longer than that?"

He nodded, kissing her throat before easing out of her and lying down beside her. The muggy air did little for the heat still clinging to them, but Renji pulled the sheet over them, taking the moment to see better the shape her body made in the filtered moonlight.

Her forehead touched his shoulder as she curled onto her side, her knee against his thigh. He pulled her closer, slipping one arm beneath her waist so she was leaned to his chest.

She looked across him, across the black marks beneath her fingers that moved with his breathing, at the half open window that allowed the gray light of night invade the room. She sighed, feeling her heartbeat still race against his side.

She looked to his fingers as his hand went to her bare shoulder, and closed her eyes, contented.

Renji watched her eyelashes lower, felt her breath warm on his chest in the hot night. The air hung with intoxicating scents, of her, he knew, and of them.

He closed his eyes. It was something he wanted to make permanent.


End file.
